


Liquor Stash

by Severe_Minx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Dom!Otabek, Drinking, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Hung Otabek, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shower Sex, Smoking, Smut, Sub!yuri, Switching, Top Yuri, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, bottom otabek, bottom yuri, top otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severe_Minx/pseuds/Severe_Minx
Summary: I want him.When the full realisation hit him, Yuri felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Detached and fleeting thoughts that had passed through his mind finally took shape in these three words at that exact moment. The I being himself, Yuri Plisetsky, age 17, a Russian figure skater with a list of impressive accomplishments to his name that seemed pretty pointless right now given the context. The want being desire, the need to bury himself, the thought to consume, but never actually act out except behind locked doors in empty beds or shower stalls. The him being the person standing across from Yuri sipping coffee from a take-away cup with creased brows, the low sunlight hitting his face just so to light up his otherwise dark eyes. Someone he considered to be his best friend, who came all the way from Almaty just to spend a week with him and who was blissfully unaware of the fucking turmoil Yuri was feeling in the pit of his stomach. Or at least, Yuri hoped he was unaware.In which Yuri Plisetsky invites Otabek Altin over to stay with him in Saint Petersburg, freaks out over his feelings and delves into Lilia's liquor stash.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fic like this, so bear with me.  
> This will be a multi-chapter fic. I had orginally planned to finished it by day one of Otayuri week on Tumblr, since it fits the theme of that day, but then the story got longer.  
> Here is Yuri Plisetsky internally screaming in the first chapter.

_I want him._

 When the full realisation hit him, Yuri felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Detached and fleeting thoughts that had passed through his mind finally took shape in these three words at that exact moment. The _I_ being himself, Yuri Plisetsky, age 17, a Russian figure skater with a list of impressive accomplishments to his name that seemed pretty pointless right now given the context. The _want_ being desire, the need to bury himself, the thought to consume, but never actually act out except behind locked doors in empty beds or shower stalls. The _him_ being the person standing across from Yuri sipping coffee from a take-away cup with creased brows, the low sunlight hitting his face just so to light up his otherwise dark eyes. Someone he considered to be his best friend, who came all the way from Almaty just to spend a week with him and who was blissfully unaware of the fucking turmoil Yuri was feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Or at least, Yuri hoped he was unaware.

 Otabek chucked the drained coffee cup into the nearest bin. “So where are we heading now?”

Yuri felt the blood rushing to his face, heard it drumming in his ears. He took a sharp breath, air that he felt as though he had lacked in ages and he heard himself answer.

“Back to my place, I guess. We can drop off your stuff and decide where we want to eat.”

“Cool. You lead the way.”

Otabek heaved his backpack up to his shoulders and reached for his small carry-on. This brought Yuri somewhat back to his senses. He tugged the handle away from Otabek’s grip and hurriedly dragged the carry-on to the sidewalk.

“It’ll be less hassle to get a taxi,” Yuri said, “Unless you want to take the scenic route and spend the next hour on a fucking bus.”

“No,” Otabek said trudging behind Yuri.

“Thanks,” he added.

Yuri hailed a taxi and stuffed Otabek’s carry-on into the trunk. They spent the way to Lilia’s apartment in relative silence, with Yuri occasionally remarking something about their surroundings as they drove into Saint Petersburg. Yuri was still living with Lilia in her spacious, three bedroom flat in the heart of the city. By that point Yakov had already moved out, back to his own place. Yuri had stayed on, since he had grown accustomed to living with his choreographer. It had turned out that living with Lilia hadn’t been so bad after all. She still gave him hell for stuff, like when she would find out he had been eating junk food or staying up late and scolded him like a mother whenever he swore. She had thrown a fit shortly after his seventeenth birthday when he had come home with his lip pierced. Yuri hadn’t had the heart to tell her he was planning on getting his nipples done as well. The whole thing had blown over as she found that Yuri’s Angels had collectively decided that the latest addition to his bad boy persona suited him and his popularity had grown even more. Overall, she was pretty relaxed about things like curfews on his days off and rescheduling appointments with his tutor. It also helped that his cat loved her. Still, Yuri was planning to get a place of his own next year, as soon as he would turn 18.

Lilia herself, however, would not be found at her apartment at the moment. She had taken up an offer from an old friend from the Bolshoi ballet to spend a week at her summer home on Tenerife. Yuri had very much encouraged her to go, being dazzled at the prospect of having the whole place to himself for one glorious week. He had been telling Otabek about it on Skype when a plan had formed in his mind.

“Why don’t you come over?” Yuri asked.

Otabek took a moment to think “I thought you said you were happy to have the house to yourself.”

“Well, yeah,” Yuri slumped against his pillow.

“But it could be fun, you know. It’s quiet and we’re just preparing for next season. We could train and hang. But if you’re not up for it, forget it.” Yuri said as casually as possible.

Otabek chuckled softly “No, it sounds good. I have to talk it over with my coach, but if it’s just for one week it should be fine. I have some money saved up. It would be like a vacation.”

Yuri straightened himself against his headboard again. “I could pay for part of your ticket if you like. I could show you around Saint Petersburg. You could train at my rink too! Then you’ll experience for yourself what shit I have to put up with there.”

“You don’t have to pay for my ticket, Yura. I would like to come.”

Yuri grinned. “Great! Cool.”

He had then spent the rest of their Skype session brainstorming on things to do together like renting a motorbike and touring the city. Otabek had just listened and smiled.

A week later, the whole thing had been arranged. Otabek’s coach had agreed to let him off for a week and even contacted Yakov to keep an eye on him while training. Lilia initially hadn’t been thrilled at Yuri’s request to let some other teenager stay in her house while unsupervised. Yuri had assured her that despite the whole brooding biker-type exterior Otabek was actually the most boring, anti-social person in the world and that she shouldn’t fear them throwing parties and trashing the place, but rather be appalled at finding that Otabek would have read one of her boring Russian classics and put it back on her bookshelf in the wrong order. Lilia had decided to take Yuri’s word for it, though she still recalled the Barcelona headline from a year and half ago and the shenanigans he had pulled at other times when meeting up with Otabek. To be fair, the shenanigans were mostly vanishing acts where Yuri would just disappear for hours and nobody could reach him on his cell phone. He would eventually turn back up, often in some blissed-out state, actually smiling for a change. Lilia had to conclude that the serious Kazakh skater was a positive influence and apparently had a calming effect on her otherwise temperamental student. Besides, Yuri had never invited a friend over before. So she pointed out to Yuri that her bookshelf was alphabetized and jetted off to the Atlantic.

Yuri was so stoked for the arrival of his friend he tidied his bedroom for the occasion. Otabek wouldn’t be sleeping there, though. The second guestroom had been empty since Yakov’s departure, so he would have that room to himself. Nevertheless Yuri put all the cat plushies back in their designated corner, did extra loads of laundry so his hamper wasn’t overflowing and thoroughly vacuumed the carpet. He thought of all the recipes he knew to prepare for the coming week and also picked out spots they could eat at if he didn’t feel like cooking. He even looked up where they could rent a motorcycle.

He felt pretty good the day after Lilia had left when he went to pick up Otabek from the airport. But then he saw him. He sauntered over to Yuri from the terminal looking tired but pleased. He was wearing that leather jacket of his, with well-worn jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt and combat boots. He still had the undercut, but his hair on top had grown out and he had secured it into a small bun. When Otabek got closer, Yuri noticed a slight stubble on his face.

 _He looks hot_ , Yuri caught himself thinking.

This sent him into his first private panic attack of the day. He barely had time to recover because suddenly Otabek was right in front of him. He reached over and fondly patted his head, a smirk on his usually stoic face.

“You’ve grown, Yura. In a couple of years I’ll have to crane my neck to see you properly.”

Yuri swatted his hand away. “It’s not my fault you remain so short, asshole.”

On an impulse Yuri then pulled him in for a quick hug. “Hey Beka.”

“Hey,” Yuri heard him say, his low voice inches away from his ear.

Yuri promptly let him go as he felt the panic flare up again. He straightened himself hoping to regain some of his composure, but Otabek didn’t seem to notice Yuri was internally freaking out.

“How was your flight?” Yuri tried.

“It was okay. But it was quite tiring. I tried to take a nap, but I couldn’t fall asleep. So I just read for a bit.” Otabek flexed his shoulders. “I could really go for some coffee.”

 

\---

 

Yuri took him to one of the kiosks just outside of the airport. He ordered a latte, Otabek had a plain black coffee. They drank most of it on a bench next to the kiosk, then started walking towards the parking lot of the airport. It was there that Yuri felt panicked again.

_He looks hot. I want him._

These weren’t thoughts he was supposed to be having. But this was Otabek Altin for crying out loud, 19 years old, the fucking ‘Hero of Kazakhstan’, who skated with an intensity that made Yuri’s skin tingle. Yuri wasn’t an idiot. He had noticed before. He had eyes. Otabek was _handsome_. He remembered Mila gushing, pulling on the sleeve of his suit-jacket, pleading him to introduce her. He had thought it before, seeing him on his bike for the first time in Barcelona, later at the banquet, in Helsinki and in Moscow, Pyeongchang, Milan.  But it had always just been an observation. Now it was different. Yuri could have smacked himself. How come he hadn’t anticipated this? Had he not been paying attention? How come he had disregarded his friend’s hotness when they met at competitions earlier this year? But during competitions he had to focus on actual figure skating, which by the way, he was trained and paid to do. Now that hotness he had somehow taken for granted in person before was sitting next to him in a taxi staring silently out of the window.

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been honest with himself lately. Maybe the perception of his friend had kind of changed since that one time. That time when Yuri had messaged Otabek one evening, asking him what he was doing. He had received a photo, something that was exceptionally rare. Otabek had sent him a selfie, which was even more rare. He was standing in front of a mirror in a grey tank, with loose-fitting, low-slung track pants. His hair was loose and hanging off to the side, damp by the looks of it. Otabek had cocked an eyebrow at the display of his cell phone, his mouth set in a straight line, all serious.

**I just took a shower. And you?**

Yuri had stared at him, mainly at his broad shoulders, defined muscles of his arms, one hand shoved into the pocket of his pants, revealing a lean hipbone. And next to the hand in his pocket Yuri could swear he could see the outline of… something. The picture wasn’t indecent, really. But still. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes. Yuri realized he had to send something back, anything, lest his silence would be interpreted as suspicious. Which it totally wasn’t. With shaking hands he snapped a picture of his cat that currently lay curled up on top of his Maths homework.

**Cute. Study hard, Yura. Goodnight.**

“Study hard, my ass,” Yuri mumbled to himself.

_Cute._

Yuri took another look at Otabek’s picture. Then he unceremoniously shooed his cat from his room, locked the door and shoved his Maths homework off his bed. He didn’t mean to do it, he really didn’t. Except he was actually lying down on his bed now, still clutching his cell phone with that goddamned picture.  

Afterwards he felt pathetic and disgusted. He angrily grabbed a box of tissues from under his bed and wiped his hands and stomach clean. How could he have just done that? What kind of loser masturbates over a picture of his best friend?

_His hot best friend._

Yuri decided to push the incident from his mind, write it off as a one-time thing. But he found himself thinking back to it, late at night alone in his bed or in the shower when he felt tense after practice. Images of the fantasy he had concocted around the picture always seemed to flood back to him. Otabek lifting that grey tank over his head. The sight of Otabek’s chest and abs. Otabek running a hand through his damp hair. Otabek biting his lower lip as he would slide his track pants over his hips. Yuri imagined Otabek would already be hard and would wrap one of his broad hands around his cock, languidly stroking himself while he hovered over Yuri.

“Do you want me to touch you like this, Yura?” he would breathe into the crook of his neck.

Yuri would whisper “Yes,” and then he would be all over him, mouths crashing onto each other, his entire body pressing him into the mattress. His fingers raking Otabek’s shoulders, his back, his ass. The thought of Otabek pumping his cock, watching him with his dark eyes, lips slightly parted, sent him over the edge every time.

Yuri convinced himself it was just a crazy fantasy that had no place in reality. In reality he was his friend, he cheered him on during competitions, they would talk about their life, share their thoughts. That particular fantasy was detached from all that, something that had nothing to do with his actual life, like other people liked getting off to the thought of threesomes or fucking in a park or some shit. Stuff you got turned on by, but not acted out.

He had been having these thoughts ever since Otabek had sent that picture in April. But he had always been able to push them from his mind whenever they would talk. Yuri had expected this time to be no different, but that felt stupid now. It turned out that wanting your best friend to touch you and kiss you and grind against you until you were a whimpering mess, wasn’t something you could easily ignore.

So here he was, shooting Otabek looks from the corner of his eye, thinking he looked particularly beautiful taking in the scenery from the moving car and he wondered how Otabek’s hands that were resting in his lap would feel sliding over his body. All of a sudden, inviting him over seemed like the worst possible idea Yuri has ever had. When he had issued the invitation, he had been lying about it to himself, but it was so clear now. Yuri finally acknowledged something. The car pulled up to Lilia’s apartment and Yuri said a silent prayer.

Please, he thought. Please let me get through this fucking week without embarrassing myself by making clear I have a gigantic crush on my best friend.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a whole lot of fluff. They also talk about nipple piercings.  
> Plus I mention some information I conveniently left out in chapter one. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As Yuri paid for the taxi, Otabek retrieved his carry-on from the trunk and looked up at the apartment building.

“Classy. It’ll be like staying at the Ritz.”

“Yeah, wait till you see all the antique crap she has inside. But don’t expect any room-service, though. I won’t be cleaning up after you.”

“I shall be an exemplary guest,” Otabek said solemnly.

“Whatever, nerd. Let’s go.”

Lilia’s apartment was on the third floor. It was all fancy white woodwork with golden inlaid patterns, gilded mirrors, oil paintings and baroque printed chairs and cushions. Yuri showed Otabek to his room which was simple yet tasteful, with powder blue walls and flowy curtains. As soon as they had put down Otabek’s luggage, they were greeted by a fluffy cat slinking past their legs. Yuri picked her up and held her gleefully to his chest.

“So you finally get to meet in person! Beka, this is Tigr.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Naturally. She is the prettiest, loveliest, most beautiful cat in the world.”

He hugged her closer, nuzzled her fur and gave her a peck on the head. Tigr, however, became a bit squirmish by so much hands-on attention and Yuri let her go. When he looked at Otabek again, it seemed he was trying hard to keep a straight face by seeing such an uncharacteristic display of affection on Yuri’s side. He felt the blood rise to his cheeks. It wasn’t like Otabek had never seen him interact with his cat before, but maybe he looked weirder cooing over some furry creature in person than on Skype.   

Yuri cleared his throat. “So, what do you want to do? Would you like to take a nap first or something?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“It’s getting pretty late. Would you like to have dinner somewhere? If you’re not too tired to head out, there’s a pretty decent pizza place just around the corner.”

“Sounds good. Give me a minute to freshen up.”

“Sure. The bathroom is the first door on your left.”

Yuri left the guestroom and headed towards the living room. Tigr had already found a comfortable spot on one of the cushions on the couch. Yuri flopped down and started petting her. Going to the pizza place would be a safe option for now, Yuri thought. Since he was kind of freaking out over Otabek’s presence, it would be better for him to go to a place where there were some other people. He didn’t think he would be able to handle spending an entire evening alone with him right off the bat, given the circumstances. Yuri scolded himself. He should just relax. Nothing had actually changed and Otabek hadn’t picked up anything odd from Yuri’s behaviour towards him. They would just go somewhere and eat, like they always did. After some time, Otabek re-emerged from the bathroom in a clean shirt. Yuri topped off Tigr’s kibble and they were out the door again.

 

The pizza place was a small Italian restaurant tucked away on a corner not ten minutes away from their residence. Eating there was a real treat for Yuri and with Otabek being there, it was the perfect excuse to indulge himself. After all, it was kind of his vacation as well.

“I haven’t had pizza since Milan,” Otabek remarked, sliding into their booth, shrugging off his leather jacket. The slate grey T-shirt he was sporting now, fit very snugly around his chest and showed off a good deal of collarbone. Yuri worried he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off him and hated Otabek for it.

“Me neither.”

The restaurant wasn’t crowded and soon a waitress approached their table to get them drinks and hand them a menu.

“Everything looks so good,” Otabek said going over the selection.

 _Not as good as you_ , Yuri thought.

The waitress came back with a tray of drinks and to take their order. Yuri noticed with a stab of jealousy her eyes lingered on Otabek as she gave him a broad smile. Why did that guy have to be such a chick-magnet?

 He started gnawing on his lip piercing, a habit he had picked up when he was feeling nervous.

Otabek noticed him at it.

“You didn’t tell me anything about how you got that piercing done. Did it hurt?”

Yuri remembered that after he had gotten his lip pierced, he had avoided taking selfies and even face-timing Otabek for a week. When the swelling finally went down, he posted proof of the little silver balls adorning the middle of his lower lip on Instagram. Otabek had replied with a thumbs up icon. He hadn’t mentioned it during their next Skype session until the very end.

“By the way, I like your piercing, Yura. It suits you.”

Yuri didn’t know his ears could burn from getting a compliment.

“It wasn’t that bad. But the swelling afterwards was hell. I couldn’t let cutlery near it and I had to survive on fucking smoothies and iced coffee. At least those come with straws.”

Otabek fixed his eyes on Yuri’s lips. “You don’t seem to have any problems now.”

“No, it’s fine now. I can chew and kiss my cat and everything.”

He saw Otabek repress a small smile. “What did Lilia and Yakov say?”

“Lilia? She got so mad she looked as though she would punch me. When Yakov saw, I thought he would have a stroke. They kept screaming at me, saying they wouldn’t let me skate like that and that I would lose sponsors. I didn’t.” Yuri smiled triumphantly.

“Because the Angels liked it?”

“It was the power of social media at work. I literally had the Angels save my ass for a change. The sponsorship offers actually increased because they were raving about how hot ‘their Yuratchka’ looked. If it weren’t for them, I would have never lived it down.” 

Honestly, it had been a classic Yuri Plisetsky move, to make a really bad decision in the spur of the moment without rationally considering the outcome beforehand. Luckily, he had landed back on his feet again, like a cat.

“So, after all that trouble, are you planning on getting anything else pierced?” Otabek asked.

“My nipples.”

Otabek nearly choked on his carbonated water. “Excuse me?”  

Yuri laughed as Otabek picked up a napkin to wipe his face. “I’m not joking.”

“Why your nipples?”

“Why not? It would look good. Don’t you think?”

Otabek put his napkin back on the table and shot him a tentative look. Yuri saw him shift in his seat slightly when he answered.

“Yeah, it would.”

“Right? Besides, it’s not like I need my nipples for anything.”

“Well, not necessarily. Apart from aesthetics people pierce their nipples for another reason.”

“Tch. Perv.”

“Yura, you’re talking about your nipples, give me break.”

“The sex reason is really backwards, though. I mean, they’ll be extremely sensitive for months, so any contact during that time would really be a bitch.”

“Better not get involved with anyone for a while then.”

“You’re a scream, Beka.”  

This wasn’t exactly a topic Yuri was willing to breach further. He was relieved to see their food arrive.

“I wonder,” Otabek mused, picking up a pizza slice, “What piercing would suit me, you think?”

 _He is trying to kill me,_ Yuri thought.

“I don’t know,” Yuri mumbled and fidgeted with his plate, “A septum? Or an industrial, since you listen to that crap.”

“What about yours on me? How would that look?”

_If by ‘yours on me’ he actually means my lips on his, I am already dead._

“What, you would get one to match mine? I can see the headlines already. ‘Hero of Kazakhstan and Ice Tiger of Russia now spotted with matching piercings’. We would officially be lamer than Victor and Katsudon.” 

“Matching piercings are totally more punk rock than matching engagement rings, I mean, good luck charms. Yuri’s Angels would be over the moon.”

“Don’t you dare! Everyone will think we’re together!”

Otabek took a sip “So?”

“They wouldn’t leave you alone!”

“I’ll manage.”

Yuri glared at him. What was he trying to pull? Otabek finally seemed to catch onto Yuri’s discomfort.

“I was just joking, Yura. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“I’m not pissed off. Just drop it.”

They continued eating and talked about the food instead, comparing it to the pizza they had had together in Milan. By the time they had finished Yuri had relaxed again. He hoped he hadn’t come across as some prissy fool, who couldn’t take a joke.

“Dinner’s on me,” he said, as Otabek was pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to do that, Yura,” he protested.

“No, I want to. I dragged your tired ass out here. You can pay next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

 

 

Yuri lay in his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling as though his heart would beat out of his chest. Otabek was now in the guestroom just down the corridor, probably already asleep. It would take less than a minute to walk over, lay down beside him, slide his hand under his shirt and then… What then? Be met with startled, questioning eyes, get gently but firmly rejected and die of embarrassment? Yuri rolled over to his side and buried his head in his pillow. He couldn’t handle the thought of rejection, nor being seen as some creep. Above all, it would be such a scummy thing to do, to just force his feelings on him out of the blue. He was scared. He had no idea how Otabek felt. Sure, he cared very much about him. His actions vouched for that. He sometimes made jokes about the suggestive things Yuri’s Angels would say about them, like he did at dinner. But otherwise he hadn’t given Yuri any reason to believe his feelings for him went beyond friendship.

Being friends with Otabek was one of the best things that had happened in his life. At the time, he had been won over by how cool Otabek appeared, being so straightforward in offering his friendship. He seemed so unapologetic about who he was, comfortable with himself, mature. He had treated Yuri like an equal from the start even back when he had been 15. Never before had he met a person who was so easy to be around, to whom he could talk about anything on his mind. Someone who understood him. Someone who he supported and admired and had received the same amount of support and admiration from, without failure, without hesitation. He would be mad to throw that all away, just because he had somehow gotten it in his mind it would feel nice to get laid by him for a change. If he were to act on the want burning inside him, there were four options.

One: Otabek would reject him, hate him, pack his bags and leave. He would ignore him for the rest of his life and Yuri would have to live with a hole in his heart.

Two: Otabek would reject him and laugh it off. Things would be incredibly awkward between them and he would wallow in shame.

The third option sent his mind racing. What if Otabek wouldn’t reject him? What if he reciprocated, tentative at first but then ardently? What if he got everything he had fantasized about only to horribly regret it the morning after? Their friendship would be spoiled, turned sour by one night of longing fueled by hormones.

Yuri considered the fourth option. He wouldn’t get rejected, Otabek wouldn’t hate him, they would just continue being friends who fucked from time to time. Yuri bitterly thought about the term for such a thing. The ‘friends with benefits’ label somehow left a nasty taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure he fully grasped the concept. Was it really just sex Yuri was after? Maybe there was a fifth option.

_Boyfriend._

He groaned. That would be annoyingly perfect. He would get to keep their friendship, have sex and do all the other disgustingly sappy crap Yuri was desperate to do like snuggle on the couch while watching a movie and hold hands. He also really wanted to sleep close to Otabek again.

 

It had just happened one time, during their previous competition together in Milan. They had been at the banquet. Both of them had been pissed off, since neither had managed to win a medal this time. Victor had gotten gold, for the first time since his comeback. Yuuri had snagged silver, again, and surprisingly Chris had won bronze. Otabek and Yuri had slid into fourth and fifth place respectively and JJ had come sixth. After his obligatory rounds to scrounge up sponsors, Yuri was in no mood to stay for the festivities. He had swiped a bottle of champagne from the buffet and tapped Otabek on the shoulder who was standing in a corner, sulking.

“Let’s blow this joint,” he had said, holding up the bottle as inconspicuously as possible.

Otabek nodded and followed him out of the hall.

“First I need to get out of this goddamned suit. Then I just want to forget about this day,” Yuri said in the elevator, already loosening the knot in his tie.

They headed back to Yuri’s hotel room so he could change. When he stepped out the bathroom, dressed in comfortable black track-pants, a T-shirt and one of his favourite zip-up hoodies with leopard print on the sleeves, he found Otabek leaning against the wall drinking champagne straight out of the bottle.  

“Don’t hog the booze,” Yuri yelled and pried the bottle away from him, taking a swig.

Otabek crossed his arms. “So what do you want to do?”

Yuri put down the bottle and went to the mirror opposite the bed. He pulled a hair tie from his wrist and put up his long hair into a messy bun.

“Let’s just drink up that champagne and watch a movie or something. But not here. I don’t want Lilia and Yakov to find me so easily so they can go over how much I sucked again today.”

Otabek took off his jacket. “We could go to my room. Though they are guaranteed to find you there eventually too. But I would really like to change clothes as well.”

Yuri grabbed the bottle again. “Let’s do that.”

So they had ended up in Otabek’s hotel room, sitting on his bed, passing the champagne bottle between them. Otabek had taken his laptop and put on ‘the Godfather’, shocked to hear that Yuri had never seen, in Otabek’s words, ‘such a classic.’ Yuri really didn’t care what they would be watching as long as it distracted his mind from that jump he had messed up during his Short Program, costing him valuable points. After a while he felt pleasantly buzzed and warm. He had already discarded his team Russia jacket, but now took off his hoodie as well. He pulled the hair tie out, letting his hair spill over his shoulders, to rest his head more comfortably against the fluffed up pillows. He glanced over at Otabek, who had tipped his head back to take a final sip of champagne. Later, he recalled hazily thinking that Otabek looked kind of alluring with his eyes closed and his Adam’s apple bobbing down.

“Shit,” Otabek grumbled, setting the empty bottle on the nightstand. “Now we’re all out. I should have swiped a bottle as well.”

“Don’t you have a mini-bar in here?”

Otabek paused the movie and crawled off the bed to reach the miniature fridge.

“There’s like wine-coolers in here and over-priced beer. Oh, and these.”

Otabek threw Yuri a small bottle, which landed his lap. It was Disaronno.

“It’ll do. I pay you back later.”

“Don’t bother,” Otabek said, climbing on the bed again.

Yuri unscrew the cap and held up the small bottle of liquor to Otabek in a mock toast. “To fourth and fifth place.”

Otabek tapped his bottle against Yuri’s. “Shut your mouth, Plisetsky.”

Yuri laughed. He liked the way Otabek would get so unusually sassy after a few drinks.

They knocked back the drinks and continued watching the movie. It was quite late at that point and Yuri felt sleepy. When he settled back he found himself half leaning against Otabek’s broad chest. But instead of moving, Otabek grunted and threw his arm over Yuri’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while and Yuri felt getting drowsier by the alcohol. He sighed, thinking how good and warm Otabek felt pressed underneath him. He was so close right now, he could smell him. He vaguely registered how nice his sent actually was, soap and some musky cologne with a hint of cinnamon to it. He slumped further back into Otabek. The last thing he remembered was that suddenly he felt Otabek’s hand stroking his hair, twirling strands of it in his fingers.

He closed his eyes and mumbled something like, “Feels good, Beka.”

After that he had apparently dozed off, because he awoke the next morning to a loud pounding at the door. He shot up from the bed, groaning. Next to him lay Otabek on his back, also waking up now. The pounding at the door continued.

“What time is it?” Yuri croaked and reached for his cell phone. It was 9.30 and he had thirteen missed calls. He recalled Yakov telling him the night before, he had to be up early for a special fan-meet and signing session with the Angels at 10.30.

“Fuck.”

Next to him Otabek slowly rose. “What’s going on?”

“I’m being an irresponsible little bitch again,” Yuri said exasperatedly and hasted to the door.

Of course, it was Yakov standing there, quite red in the face.

“Don’t give me that look, Yuri!” he yelled, “I explicitly reminded you yesterday of your appointment. I have been trying to reach you all morning. Then I figured you would be with Altin.”

Otabek appeared behind Yuri. “I’m sorry, Mr. Feltsman. We fell asleep. I didn’t know Yuri had an appointment, o-.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Yakov cut him off, “He conveniently forgot to tell you after you sneaked out yesterday evening and he put his phone on silent! Honestly, first that piercing and now this again. Get your things, Yuri.”

Yuri hurriedly grabbed his trainers and his team Russia jacket.

“My flight is shortly after the signing session.”

“Alright. Give me a call when you get back to Russia.”

And with that he was out the door, dragged along the corridor by Yakov. Neither of them had brought up that evening again. Yuri didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t felt weird at the time, but thinking back, maybe some aspects of that evening were questionable. Like the part where he had practically draped himself over Otabek. And the hair petting. Yuri defended their behaviour in his mind by placing the blame on the alcohol they had consumed. They had just been really comfortable around each other, that’s all. But then a couple weeks later Otabek had sent him that picture and Yuri’s feelings had spun out of control.  

 

Yuri finally felt exhaustion take over his body. He would think about his situation again in the morning, take it day by day. His final thought before drifting off was if he were to stand any chance with Otabek, maybe he should try to recreate that night in Milan.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On naming Yuri's cat: I wanted something that was really cliched, so I went for 'tiger' in Russian. Yes, I know it sounds like the Disney character now, but it's cute nevertheless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They go to the rink and some of the gang make an appearance!  
> Yuri continues to feel feelings and Otabek... flirts?
> 
> Mention of cliched T-shirts, vinyl records and ice cream.
> 
> Still fluff for now, but smut is just around the corner.  
> I promise.

The next morning Yuri awoke at 6.30 to the sound of his alarm. They had agreed to get up early today, so they could spend the morning training with Yakov. It was the first time he would take Otabek to his rink. Mila, Yuuri, Victor and maybe even Georgi would probably be there as well. He needed to be extra careful not to show his true feelings today.

 

He worried the most about Mila. When he had begrudgingly introduced Otabek to her at the banquet in Barcelona, she had shamelessly flirted with him for a good part of the evening. Otabek had reacted politely, but had otherwise been quite stoic about the whole ordeal. It had been funny to watch, though Yuri was pretty sure they had exchanged phone numbers at some point. However, neither of them had mentioned contacting each other. As far as Yuri had known there wasn’t anything going on between the two, but he couldn’t refrain himself from outright asking Otabek about it on Skype one day.

 

“Are you, like, _interested_ in Mila?”

 

“No,” Otabek answered, “But she is a very nice girl.”

 

“Baba, nice? Don’t be fooled, man. However, since you think I’m also nice and I’m an asshole about 90 percent of the time, I guess you are a terrible judge of character.”

 

“You have a good point.”

 

That had been a year and a half ago. He didn’t think Mila would try to pursue Otabek again. She had been actively trying to get together with that Crispino girl ever since Pyeongchang, and a couple weeks back she had made an offhand comment that the situation was finally progressing. What worried him about Mila was that she had the annoying tendency to see right through him. She had been teasing him about their friendship as is, showing him crazy fan-stuff Yuri’s Angels had made about them on her phone with a snigger. If he would show up at the rink with Otabek feeling the way he did, Yuri thought Mila would immediately catch on and ruin it by making stupid comments so Otabek would notice as well.

 

He braced himself and got out of bed. He didn’t know if Otabek would be awake yet, but decided to get a head start on preparing breakfast by making some coffee. He padded to the living room on his bare feet and found to his surprise that Otabek was already up. He was sitting in one of the chairs next to the high windows, his legs drawn up to him, reading a tattered paperback. His hair was loose, a bit messy, and hung off to the side just like it had on that picture. He was wearing pyjama pants and an old band T-shirt, the Joy Division one with the squiggly lines Yuri had once made fun of by accusing Otabek he looked like a hipster whenever he wore it. His brow was furrowed in concentration while reading and the morning sun illuminated his prominent features, his sharp jawline, his delicate nose scrunched up a bit. He still had that stubble. Yuri had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

 

“Morning,” Yuri greeted, “What are you reading?”

 

Otabek silently looked up at Yuri and showed him the cover of the paperback.

 

_Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance._

It took every ounce of self-control on Yuri’s part not to rush over, cup Otabek’s face in both his hands and kiss him until he was breathless. To greedily lap at that gorgeous mouth, slip in his tongue and ravish him.

 

Instead Yuri asked, “You know you are a walking cliché, Beka?”

 

Otabek gave him a long, hard stare. “Nice shirt, Yura,” he replied.

 

He was referring to the oversized, slightly cropped tee Yuri was wearing. It had an image of a disgruntled, hissing cat head and it said ‘meow bitch’ in bold letters underneath. Otabek had made his point. Yuri rolled his eyes and marched to the kitchen.

 

“I’m assuming you would like some coffee.”

 

“You are assuming correctly,” he heard him call from the living room.

 

He was busying himself with the coffee maker when Otabek walked into the kitchen and seated himself on a barstool watching Yuri. It dawned on him that this was all very domestic and that he had to endure Otabek hovering around him doing simple stuff around the house like this for the entire week. It made him both incredibly happy and terrified.

 

“Did you sleep well?” Yuri asked as he started gathering ingredients for his usual smoothie.

 

“Yeah, I was out like a light. It was a good thing we turned in early.”

 

Though Yuri had had trouble falling asleep, turning in early had been convenient for him. That way he could avoid spending a full evening alone with Otabek for one more day. He remembered the thoughts mulling in his head from last night. Suddenly, a plan began to take shape.

 

He served up the coffee and threw spinach, bananas and protein powder into a blender.

 

“I’m making oatmeal in addition to this. You can already change for practice if you like. I’ll have breakfast set up in a moment.”

 

 

 ---

 

After breakfast Yuri got dressed as well and they did a short stretching routine in the living room, Yuri purposefully keeping his eyes turned away from Otabek all the while. The skating rink was a short jog away from their apartment, something that Yuri had incorporated into his daily exercise routine. Upon arrival, they went straight into the rink where Yakov would be waiting.

 

“Yuri!”

 

He heard his name being called from across the stands. Suddenly, Mila excitedly came rushing over.

 

“Hey Otabek!” She grinned and to Yuri’s surprise she enveloped him in a big hug. Yuri stared at them, perplexed. Mila let go of Otabek and instead of scowling as usual he gave her a little smirk. When had this development occurred?

 

“Since when are you two so chummy?” Yuri demanded to know.

 

“Mila! I was talking to you!” Yakov’s voice rang.

 

Mila glanced back from where she had ran off, to see Yakov standing there looking cross. “You don’t need to know everything about my life, Yuratchka.”

 

She shrugged and then winked.

 

“That’s rich coming from you,” he started shouting as she walked away, “since you usually don’t spare me the SORDID DETAILS OF THINGS I DON’T WANT TO KNOW, LIKE WHO YOU ARE CURRENTLY FUCKING.” 

 

“WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, YURI!” Yakov roared.

 

Mila turned around, waved at him, gave him her most dazzling smile and put up her middle finger. Next to him Otabek actually snorted. Yuri shot him a poisonous glare.

 

“You never told me you were friends with Mila.”

 

He internally cringed at himself. He didn’t mean for it to come out so salty. 

 

Otabek’s eyebrows shot up. “We text occasionally.”

 

“About what?”

 

“If you must know, Sara.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Yuri paused. “Well, that’s good. That way at least I don’t have to listen to her moaning about it.”

 

“Yurio! I thought I heard your dulcet tones!” Victor came striding into the rink, Yuuri in his wake. “And you have brought Otabek, how lovely!”

 

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Yuri said through gritted teeth.

 

“Hello, both of you,” Yuuri greeted them in English.  

 

Otabek gave them a curt nod.

 

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Yuuri enquired.

 

“He hasn’t even been here for 24 hours, Katsudon.”

 

“Ah, but the hours he has spent here,” Victor chimed in, “Have they been enjoyable so far?”

 

“Yuri has been very hospitable,” Otabek replied.

 

Victor gasped. “Our Yurio, hospitable? Who would’ve thought? I guess you being his special friend also means you get a special treatment.”

 

_He did not just say that._

 

Yuri’s blood was boiling and he was about to yell something nasty, but by that point Yakov’s patience had also already worn thin.

 

“For goodness sake, all of you are figure skating medallists, so you might want TO GET TO PRACTICE YOUR GODDAMNED FIGURE SKATING INSTEAD OF CHATTERING MY TIME AWAY.”

 

Yuri turned to Otabek. “See what I have to put up with here?”

 

 ---

 

During practice, he was being so inconspicuous about the whole crush thing, Yuri thought he ought to high-five himself for a job well done. He had intensely focused on going through his routine, trying not to pay attention to anyone else on or around the ice. It had also helped, that Yakov really had pushed Yuri today and he had let him. He couldn’t allow himself another screw-up like in Milan where he had come in fifth. However, all that determination was shot once he was on break. Otabek and Yuuri had the opportunity to take full advantage of the rink and went on to practice their Free Programs, Yakov silently observing Otabek and Victor grossly fawning over Yuuri. He knew he should probably just head to the canteen, but he was curious to see Otabek practice in real life, instead of on shaky clips on his phone.

 

So he lingered by the side of the rink, drinking from his water bottle and scrolling through his phone, hoping he looked bored. Of course, he was actually watching Otabek. He had just come out of a powerful step sequence, looking magnificent, when Yuri could no longer contain himself. He quickly snapped a shot of him. What was the harm in one picture, really?

The photo had turned out looking so good, Yuri thought he couldn’t possibly pass it up to share. Without a second thought, he opened his Instagram and posted it, captioning the picture with ‘Look who’s training at my rink today’. He tagged Otabek and added #BFF for good measure. Within moments he had dozens of notifications. They were mostly from Angels, who were squealing in the comments, saying things like ‘It’s finally happening, fam!!!’ and ‘I think he meant to tag that #BF.’  Yuri wished he could openly agree with them.

 

He came out of his social media induced high, being nudged by Mila. She had already finished practice and was now standing next to him giving him an incredulous look. She held her phone in her hand, her Instagram opened to display the picture of Otabek looking like some deity on the ice.

 

“Seriously, Yuri?”

 

“What?”

 

Mila shook her head and leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

“He’s here for just one week, so you might want to get a move on.”

 

She then tucked her phone in her sports bag and left the rink without another word.

 

 ---

 

Practice ended on a high note. Yuri had painstakingly tried to be a model student for the remainder of the morning and Yakov had apparently noticed his effort. He called out to Yuri and Otabek around noon, grumbling something about Otabek’s intended vacation and that Yuri ought to ‘take Altin sightseeing while he’s here.’

 

Once Yakov was out of earshot, Yuri gave Otabek an astonished look. “Shit, dude. You must have really impressed him or something.”

 

“I’m stunned,” Otabek said even though he wore his usual blank expression, “I thought he had hated me since that summer camp. I was actually quite nervous to train with him again.”

 

“Yet you did!”

 

“Well, you are here to protect me from him, aren’t you?” Otabek dead-panned.

 

Before he could make a witty come-back, Yuuri had managed to corner the both of them and asked them over for dinner later that week. Yuri wasn’t sure he would be able to stand spending an entire evening at his and Victor’s apartment with Otabek, fearing that Victor would continue to spew stupid shit about their friendship. He had looked to Otabek who nodded, polite as ever, accepting the invitation. As Otabek made his way to the locker room, Yuri grabbed the Japanese skater by the arm.

 

“You better make Victor behave himself,” he hissed.

 

“I’ll make him be on his best behaviour,” Yuuri reassured him.

 

“I’ll prepare katsudon!” he added brightly as Yuri stalked off to the locker room.

 

\---

 

Yuri and Otabek grabbed lunch at a small tea shop across the rink. For today they had planned just to go explore and wander the streets of Saint Petersburg. Yuri had postponed renting a motorbike until the day after tomorrow, when they would have a full day off from practice. When he was sitting with Otabek in the tea shop, memories from Barcelona kept flooding back to him. It had felt so comfortable, that first meeting. They had talked about the summer camp, how the ballet instructor at that time had kept hitting them with that stick, especially Otabek. Yuri had talked about his experience in Hasetsu, his stay with Yuuri and Victor and how he had felt so dumb realising he couldn’t have possibly won that time, seeing that Victor had already been head over heels for Yuuri. Otabek had elaborated on the story how he had moved from America to Canada back to Almaty again and on his friendship with Leo and later, reluctantly, with JJ. Yuri had profusely expressed his dislike for the Canadian skater, much to Otabek’s amusement. He found that Otabek never minded him being crass or loud. Yuri couldn’t believe his luck. Here was this skater, who rode a motorbike like a badass, looking too cool for everyone, actually making an effort to get to know him. He often thought back on Otabek’s words, how he had said Yuri had ‘the unforgettable eyes of a soldier’. People had compared him to kittens or fairies back then, cute stuff. A pretty ballerina. The last thing Yuri wanted was for people to see him as cute. In a way, Otabek had validated the image of himself he wanted to convey. Thinking back on it, it had definitely contributed to the feelings Yuri had developed for him. ‘Unforgettable eyes of a soldier’ almost seemed like a pick-up line now.

 

They had walked around Saint Petersburg for the rest of the afternoon. Yuri had shown Otabek all kinds of shops he thought were cool. In a vintage store close to the Obvodniy embankment, he had been eyeing a leopard printed bomber-jacket with hot pink lining from the eighties. He hoped he wasn’t boring Otabek. He was relieved when he spotted him sifting through a rack of leather jackets. Typical. To his delight Otabek loved the various record stores he had lead him to. He had spent a good part of an hour just rifling through the selection in one particular store and bought two vinyl records of bands Yuri had never heard of. He had apologised to Yuri for taking so long, but Yuri really didn’t mind. He would have waited for three more hours, only to see Otabek looking so happy clutching the square album covers. For a guy who was known for looking so stern, Yuri sure saw him smile a lot.

 

The weather had been perfect, so before heading home and making dinner, they decided to relax for a bit in the grass of a nearby park, have some ice cream and soak up the summer sun.

 

“Pistachio and chocolate, what were you thinking?” Yuri remarked, eyeing the green and brown scoops in Otabek’s cone.

 

Otabek looked at him. “It’s really good together, actually.”

 

Then he held out his ice cream cone to Yuri.

 

“Do you want a lick?”

 

Yuri gave him a suspicious glare. “Are you going to shove that in my face?”

 

Otabek cocked an eyebrow. “I never do that without consent.”

 

Yuri let out a startled sound. He gaped at Otabek, wide-eyed, and Otabek’s face split into a grin as he softly chuckled.

 

 “For fuck’s sake, Beka.”

 

Yuri simultaneously felt giddy and irritated and he prayed Otabek didn’t notice him shaking.

He grabbed Otabek’s outstretched hand to hold the ice cream cone still and leaned in. Then he made the terrible mistake to make eye contact. Otabek was observing him, one corner of his mouth turned up in that devastating smirk of his. There was something challenging in the glint of his eye, Yuri could swear it. He lapped at the ice cream, pistachio and chocolate sweetly melting on his tongue. It was divine.

 

“Was it good?” Otabek asked as Yuri let go of his hand again and leaned back.

 

“I didn’t hate it.”

 

“Can I taste yours?”

 

What was happening? Was Otabek actually _flirting_ with him? Without a word Yuri also held out his cone. Otabek took hold of Yuri’s hand and brought it up to his mouth. He locked eyes with Yuri and flicked out his tongue to taste the scoops of strawberries and cream. Yuri was now positive that defiant look of his hadn’t been wishful thinking. He could feel his cheeks burn, a shot of arousal coursing through him. How he would love to have that mouth on him, let him do that to him with his head buried in between Yuri’s thighs. Then, without warning, Otabek took a big bite out of Yuri’s cone. Yuri huffed in annoyance.

 

“You greedy bastard.”

 

Otabek laughed. “Don’t let you guard down, Plisetsky.” He then leaned back in the grass on his elbow and continued eating his ice cream as though nothing had happened.

 

As they lay there finishing their ice cream in the afternoon sun, Yuri thought back on the plan that had been forming in his mind since this morning. He knew that Lilia kept a selection of fancy liquor stashed away in a cabinet in the living room. He had seen it on multiple occasions when she had been entertaining guests. When Yakov was living with them he had also noticed he helped himself to a glass of whiskey after Yuri or Mila had been particularly feisty at practice. To wind down, so to speak. Tonight he would make dinner, take a shower and ask Otabek if he would like to have a drink with him. Then maybe he had an excuse to snuggle up to Otabek again and touch him and take his shirt off and feverishly make out with him. Yuri secretly marvelled at the possibilities. Being slightly inebriated would loosen them up more and it would be easier to make a pass at Otabek. Such a method had certainly worked for Katsudon, Yuri thought. From the way Otabek had behaved just now he might even stand a good chance. He had to play his cards right.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!
> 
> It's an entire chapter on Otabek Altin contemplating his life in a bathtub.
> 
> The rating has gone up to M and the tag Eventual Smut has turned into Smut, as to give you an indication on what he is thinking about...

 

The stars in the tub fizzed and whorled around, leaving bursts of yellow in a pool of blue and green. Otabek lifted his arm rubbing the hairs on it, and saw tiny sparkles shining on his skin. Yuri had actually given him a bath product containing glitter. He loved him for being such an asshole.

 

After they had come home from their walk through the city, Yuri had made them dinner. Otabek had watched him in his apron preparing borscht, grandpa Plisetsky’s recipe, while helping Yuri cut vegetables. It had been the first time that Yuri had cooked dinner for him and it did things to Otabek he would feel uncomfortable expressing.

 

“I would like to take a bath, if that’s alright with you,” he had asked as they had finished dinner.

 

Yuri had looked up at him and paused for moment before he answered.

 

“Sure. Just let me take a quick shower and I’ll put everything out for you.”

 

Later Yuri had called him over to the bathroom, where he was already drawing Otabek a bath. He had produced some sort of ball with stars on it and plopped it in the bathtub. Instantly, the sphere started foaming, giving off colours and smelling incredible.

 

“What is that?” Otabek asked, staring at the bubbles.

 

“Bath bomb,” Yuri said, matter-of-factly, “They’re nice.”

 

He then pressed a large towel into his arms.

 

“Enjoy,” Yuri grinned and left the bathroom.

 

 

Otabek took off his clothes and sunk into the tub. It was always so satisfying to take a bath after a hard day of practice. He didn’t often have the luxury to do so anymore, since his tiny apartment in Almaty only came with a shower. But whenever he had the chance to indulge himself, he took it.

 

Though the bathwater was giving off a strong scent of its own, the air was still heavy with the smell of shampoo Yuri had been using before him. Otabek let his head fall back against the bathtub and wondered how he would be able to survive the rest of this week.

 

 

\---

 

 

It had been in Pyeonchang that Otabek had realised he was hopelessly, madly in love with Yuri.

 

They had met up after checking into the hotel. He had found Yuri in the lobby, seated in a plush chair, scrolling through his phone with his hood pulled up, scowling. When he noticed Otabek was walking towards him, Yuri had pulled down his hood and his face had lit up.

His smile was like sunshine spreading warmth through Otabek’s chest. Those green eyes shining brilliantly at him caused a sensation in him he wouldn’t know how to describe. Like nothing in the world mattered anymore, except this brash, beautiful boy now looking at him excitedly. It would have felt so natural to walk over and kiss him, press his lips softly against Yuri’s, bury his face in his hair and tell him how much he had missed him.

 

With a shock he had realised then that _friends didn’t do that_.

 

He felt like running away. He had been so afraid this would happen. Of course, this would happen. How could it not? He had grown close to a boy he had admired for years. But he had been careless. He had let those feelings of admiration grow into something else. Something that made him want to take Yuri in his arms and never let him go. Something that made him want to run his fingers through his hair and place kisses on it. Something that unleashed a need inside him that burned.

 

But Yuri didn’t seem to notice.

 

The Olympics in Pyeonchang had went by in a blur. Otabek had felt nervous about the competition as is, without also having to deal with this new surge of emotions he felt whenever he saw Yuri. It had been tough. Every night of his stay there, he had woken up in a cold sweat, anxious about needing to skate his best. Every day Otabek prayed Yuri wouldn’t pick up on the whirlwind of feelings coursing through him. He couldn’t tell him. He was supposed to be his friend. Otabek couldn’t stand the thought of breaking apart their friendship by something so selfish. So he had kept it to himself, pained by the desire to spend as much time as possible with Yuri between the madness of the event and the ache he would feel whenever Yuri was next to him.

 

When the chaos of Pyeonchang had come to an end, Otabek was relieved. Despite everything, he had skated wonderfully, somehow managing to channel everything he felt into two outstanding performances. He had won silver. Yuri had finished just below him, winning bronze. It had been Yuuri Katsuki who had gotten gold then, much to everyone’s delight, especially Victor Nikiforov’s.

 

Yuri had been so happy for him, he couldn’t stop grinning. He had hugged him for so long after the scores had come out, Otabek thought he would sink to the floor if he let go. High on their winnings, both had attended the banquet in great spirits. That had also been when JJ had come to talk to them, unfortunately. He honestly liked JJ. However, he had the tendency to be so pushy and self-centred, Otabek could only enjoy his company in small doses at a time. He also had the worst possible timing to talk about subjects nobody particularly cared for, like that evening.

 

He had been standing with Yuri and Mila, talking about their success and drinking champagne, when JJ had come over. He congratulated them heartily, no hard feelings, coming in fifth himself. Then he mentioned something Otabek wished he hadn’t.

 

“By the way, Christine sends her regards.”

 

Otabek paled.

 

“Who’s Christine?” Yuri asked.

 

“His ex-girlfriend.”

 

 He actually saw Yuri’s jaw drop. Suddenly, Otabek felt nauseous. He had never mentioned Christine to Yuri.

 

JJ continued. “I totally forgot to tell you before the event. I ran into her just before flying to Pyeonchang. Said she completely gave up competitive skating now. Plans to go to med school!”

 

JJ took a sip of champagne. “Anyway, I told her I was off to the Olympics and I mentioned you. She said she would be rooting for you during the competition. I guess it helped, huh?”

 

 “Well, enjoy your evening!” he slapped Otabek’s arm amicably.

 

 “You too, ladies,” he added, referring to both Mila and Yuri.

 

And then he was off again, leaving Otabek looking flustered, Mila looking puzzled and Yuri seething.

 

“Fuck that guy,” Yuri growled, “That shit isn’t even funny anymore.”

 

Yuri turned to Otabek with a questioning look. Otabek felt he had somehow messed up. Mila’s eyes kept darting between him and Yuri, but she held her tongue, sipping champagne. Yuri was about to ask him something when he cut him off.

 

“Please, excuse me,” he said, putting his glass of champagne down on a nearby table.

 

“Bathroom,” he offered as an explanation.

 

\---

 

He had stood at the sink in the men’s room for a solid five minutes to calm himself down, before deciding to step out for some air.  He went to the garden adjacent to the hall where the banquet was held. Then he bummed a smoke off a guy. He didn’t smoke, not really. He couldn’t allow himself to as a professional athlete. But the taste and smell of cigarettes always reminded him of evenings in Almaty, when he would meander the streets with his friends. He needed something familiar to soothe him, instead of letting this new-found realisation of being in love with his friend and the panic that went with it take him over. So he gladly took the cigarette and sunk down on the stone steps leading to the grass.

 

“Mind if I join you?” he heard a voice behind him say after a while as he took a drag.

 

It was Mila.

 

“No, go ahead.”

 

He tried not to look at her. She sat down next to him wrapping her stole tighter over her arms and shoulders.

 

“So I am going to ask you a question and you don’t have to answer,” she started.

 

He felt his stomach drop.

 

“Otabek, do you like Yuri?”

 

“Of course, he is my friend,” he said softly. He continued smoking, still determined not to look at Mila.

 

“Yeah, okay. You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

He could tell she was smiling while she said this.

 

She dropped her voice. “Are you in love with Yuri?”

 

Otabek was silent. He took a final drag of his cigarette and put it out on the stone steps. When he finally turned to face Mila, her face was so full of kindness he felt himself split apart at the seams.

 

“Please don’t tell him.”

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

 

He put his elbows on his knees and let his head drop in his hands.

 

“Am I that obvious?”

 

“No, actually.”

 

She shrugged. “The thing is, I have quite some experience in trying to conceal your true feelings from your best friend myself.”

 

Otabek realised she was talking about Sara.

 

“You’re doing a pretty good job at hiding it,” she confided him.

 

“Yet you have noticed.” He almost sounded bitter.

 

“I have seen you two interact for a while now. And I only noticed because of what JJ said. When he mentioned your ex, you couldn’t even look Yuri in the eye, you bolted out of there.  You looked mortified. Just for one second though, but it was there.”

 

“It wasn’t because he mentioned Christine. It was because I have never told Yuri about her. It’s not like I kept it from him on purpose. I just never thought it was relevant to bring up. Now he might think I’m keeping things from him. Which I am. I am supposed to be his best friend, but what I am feeling for him now is... overwhelming.”

 

They remained silent for a while. Then Mila sighed.

 

“Otabek, he might not realise it himself yet, but that boy is crazy about you.”

 

He took a deep breath and just sat there, resting his chin in his hand, letting her words sink in.

 

“He’s sixteen.”

 

“If you literally wait a week, he’ll be seventeen,” she offered, a little smile now forming on her lips.

 

“I feel bad.”

 

“I get it. So give it time. But you might want to consider telling him about your feelings eventually, or else you’ll just torture yourself.”

 

She shivered. He watched as she stood up and smoothed her dress.

 

“Are you going to tell Sara?”

 

Mila raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying I should take my own advice?”

 

He smirked.

 

\---

 

Yuri asked about Christine only once after that evening in Pyeonchang, during a conversation on Skype. Otabek told him that she had been his girlfriend when he was sixteen. She had skated at the same rink as JJ and Otabek in Canada. It had been a sweet and quite innocent relationship that had only lasted about four months. Christine had ended things with Otabek when she found he would become very closed off, as though he was too occupied with things on his mind and as a result didn’t really communicate with her. Otabek had explained to Yuri that the reason for this was that he had suddenly found himself much more interested in boys. He had been confused and too embarrassed to tell Christine, afraid he would hurt her. When she had broken it off, Otabek had felt relieved.

 

“Oh man, that must have sucked,” Yuri had sympathized.

 

“I have never been attracted to girls to begin with,” the blond had added.

 

Yuri had apparently noticed that Otabek had exhausted all he was willing to share on the topic, so he just went on to complain about some annoying thing Victor had said at morning practice. Otabek was glad Yuri hadn’t been upset with him, yet some irrational part of him had secretly hoped he would have gotten more of a rouse out of Yuri. Why should Yuri have been upset about hearing something that happened years ago, though? He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. As his friend was talking, he couldn’t take his eyes of his lips. The little silver dots now gleaming there gave Yuri a more feral look. How was he so beautiful? Before logging off, he made sure to compliment Yuri on his new piercing.

 

\---   

 

After his conversation with Mila, Otabek had privately allowed himself to at least acknowledge his own feelings. Yes, he was in love with Yuri and no, it wasn’t exactly mutual. Then Milan had happened.

 

He didn’t even care about coming in fourth anymore. He had held on to Yuri as he had fallen asleep next to him and that had caused his brain to short-circuit for a long time afterwards. It also didn’t help he had accidentally gotten himself a souvenir from their night together. He had found Yuri’s hoodie, discarded next to the bed in his hotel room. He held it in his hands, thinking he should probably put it in his suitcase, to give it back to Yuri the next time he would see him. Maybe Yuri would realise he had left it behind and ask him about it. Otabek could even send it in the mail. Instead he put the garment to his face and took a deep breath.

 

It smelt like heaven. Like laundry soaking up the summer sun and something earthy. The hood actually smelt of Yuri’s hair, like soft flowers. When he realised what he was doing, Otabek knew he was in too deep. He put the hoodie in his suitcase, but somehow failed to mention it and Yuri never brought it up. Back home in Almaty, in the privacy of his bedroom, he fantasized doing unspeakable things all the while breathing in Yuri’s scent. 

 

This aspect of his feelings had been the most confusing. He had watched him grow from a kid to a man, still slender and graceful, but now taller and more angular. His cheekbones had become more prominent, his chin and jaw line sharper. His blond hair now reached well past his collar bones. Yuri’s chest had become broader and his voice lower and husky. The way he moved, sometimes languid and cat-like, had become sensual. He thought Yuri being bratty was the hottest thing ever. Every snarl and pout ignited a fire in him, left him enthralled. It also made him want to shove Yuri against something and ravish him. He imagined Yuri to be amazing while coming undone.  

 

It had been after fantasizing about having his way with the blond in the shower, that Yuri had texted him to ask what he was doing one night in April. Otabek felt like being high on some drug, having thought so many dirty things about the guy who was now innocently texting him. He wanted to be bold, he wanted to provoke Yuri somehow. He looked in the mirror. For a second he wanted to take his tank off, but then decided against it. It needs to look careless, Otabek thought. So he made sure to have just the right angle, to play up the amount of skin that was on display. He even put his hand in his pocket to stretch the material of his pants just so to show the outline of his cock. The picture was hot, subtle, but the underlying message was there, Otabek hoped. Then Yuri had responded with a picture of his cat on top of a textbook.

 

Oh, well.

 

\---

 

When Yuri had asked Otabek to stay with him in Saint Petersburg, Otabek thought he was dreaming. After accepting his invitation, the blond had happily chatted away making plans and Otabek had tried not to let his imagination run wild.

 

A whole week with Yuri.

 

Alone.

 

Part of him even wanted to decline the offer. Another part of him saw this as a sign. Maybe he should take this opportunity to confess his feelings for him. He couldn’t sleep that night, his mind racing. He desperately wanted someone to share this news with, someone who would understand the upheaval it was causing in his mind. Instead of contacting his hometown friends, he took his phone out and texted Mila. 

 

**Yuri has asked me to come to St. Petersburg.**

He paused before sending another message, one that was quite out of character.

 

**I am freaking out.**

It didn’t take long for Mila to text him back.

 

**Davai!**

 

She had even added a thumbs up icon. Otabek couldn’t help but laugh. He received a second message.

 

**Make it count.**

 

Otabek decided right then and there that he would. He would go to Saint Petersburg to spend the week with Yuri, maybe flirt a little bit if the mood was right, and confess to him just before flying back to Almaty again. That would make the situation less awkward if he got turned down. He didn’t dare to think about the possibility that Yuri could fully return his feelings. Even in the case that Yuri would accept his confession, Otabek feared expressing just how far his affection for him went.

 

Apart from that one picture, which apparently hadn’t been as sexy as Otabek hoped it would be, he had been determined to conceal everything from Yuri. Yet he desired him, deeply. If Yuri were ever to find out what he exactly fantasized of doing with him Otabek would be wrecked by guilt. He felt bad, but not enough. It didn’t stop him frantically fisting his cock, imagining fucking the blond long and hard in every possible way.

 

Yuri had the plushest, most well-shaped ass he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. He fantasized about kneading it, cupping it in his hands and squeezing it, eliciting sounds from Yuri he so desperately longed to hear.

 

He would love to fuck that pretty mouth he used for spewing profanities. To push his head against a wall, harshly tug at those silky strands of golden hair, feel the metal of that piercing of his scrape the underside of his shaft. To fill him up completely and spill into him, Yuri looking up with those hard-set green eyes, taking in every drop.

 

He would love to have Yuri underneath him, kiss and lick every inch of him, from his chest and nipples down to his pelvis, making him whisper “Feels good, Beka,” again. Then he would leave marks with his teeth on the inside of his thighs, tease the slit of his cock with his tongue, drive him crazy with want before swallowing him whole.

 

He would finger him, gently at first, then fast and rough as Yuri would beg for more. His cock would be painfully hard from seeing him whimper and gasp, clutching the bed sheets. He would slowly push himself into Yuri, inch by inch, smirking as Yuri would cry out, curious to see how much of him the blond could take. Otabek would pull him into his lap, wrap his hand around Yuri’s slender neck and make him ride him until Yuri’s thighs would tremble.

 

Sometimes he even fingered himself on his knees, lifting his ass, stifling his cries of pleasure by burying his face in the soft material of Yuri’s hoodie. He would imagine his fingers were Yuri’s and after working him open, Yuri would then line up his cock to his hole and thrust inside him, leaving him gasping. He would moan Otabek’s name, tightly grip his hips and eagerly pound him to completion.

 

He was filth.

 

\---

 

Otabek took a deep breath and got out the bathtub. The last thing he needed right now was to let himself get carried away by his fantasies. He let the bathwater drain away, towelled himself off and noticed that the tiny flecks of glitter were still sparkling on his tan skin. After he had dressed in his grey tank and track pants, he studied himself in the mirror, ready to face Yuri again. He hoped he looked good at least. 

 

When he entered the living room, it took him a moment to register the situation. Yuri was on his knees, crouching on the floor next to the low coffee table, his backside facing Otabek as he was rummaging inside a cabinet. He had pulled out all kinds of different liquor bottles and had set them on the coffee table with a set of tumblers and shot glasses. Otabek couldn’t help but stare at Yuri’s ass, the material of his leggings clinging tightly to its plump cheeks. He had put half of his hair up, the lower half cascading down his back. He swivelled around and from the way he was sitting on the floor, Otabek could see Yuri’s pale chest and pink nipples peaking from underneath the cream-coloured top he was wearing. He looked up at him, startled at first, but then Otabek swore he could see a hint of mischief in his eyes as he asked:

 

“Are you thirsty?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, are you thirsty?
> 
> Pour yourself a drink. Things are finally going down in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinks are served.  
> Here we go.

 

“Excuse me?” Otabek heard himself ask.

 

“Do you want a drink?” Yuri threw his arm out to gesture at the selection of bottles on the table.

 

There was a lot on there. Rum, gin, vermouth, brandy, several creamy liqueurs, five types of whiskey, a whole lot of vodka and even a bottle of that tropical fruit stuff that had made him throw up in an alleyway in Almaty one time when he had been fifteen.

 

“Yura, what is all this?”

 

“Lilia’s liquor stash,” Yuri grinned.

 

Otabek blinked. “Do you want to get drunk?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We’ve never done that before.”

 

It wasn’t untrue. Though they had of course drunk together at the end of skating events, there hadn’t been an occasion where they had gone all out. Unless you count Milan, but on half a bottle of champagne and a shot of Disaronno Otabek hadn’t felt too far gone.

 

He couldn’t resist. “There are many things we’ve never done before.”

 

For a moment Yuri squinted at him, but then apparently just decided to ignore this comment.

 

“Come on, how often do we have the opportunity to just chill and…”

 

“Get wasted?” Otabek finished his sentence.

 

“Right.”

 

Otabek couldn’t believe his ears. Didn’t he at least need to try and act responsible?

 

“We have practice tomorrow,” he reminded Yuri.

 

Yuri threw his head back a little in laughter. Otabek thought he could have Yuri laughing at him like that for the rest of his life and never mind.

 

“Are you kidding me, Beka? Are you going to be a goody-goody?”

 

Yuri shrugged his shoulders in the most elegant and nonchalant way possible.

 

“I’ll just cancel practice with Yakov if we get too plastered. It’s just this once. It’s not like you’re here every week. I’ll gladly take shit for it.”

 

He looked at him defiantly, challenging him. Otabek had one final, if not weak, resort.

 

“When Lilia gets back and half that cabinet is empty, do you think she won’t notice?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes at him.

 

“We’ll just buy new bottles of stuff we’ll finish.”

 

That’s it. Those were all the excuses he could muster up. He observed Yuri sitting on the floor, waiting for an incentive from him. He pushed strands of blond hair from his face and the wide-necked top he was wearing slipped past his shoulder. Otabek could tell he was on the verge of pouting. Yuri would always do that whenever he didn’t get his way with Otabek. He had noticed Yuri didn’t do that with other people. With others he would just shout or whine. But not with him. Yuri would frown, slightly puff up his lower lip and say “Beka,” in a low voice, extending the final syllable. It didn’t happen often, because Otabek usually went along with whatever crazy idea Yuri had cooked up. But when it did, it was adorable. Now the most beautiful boy in the world wanted to get drunk with him. How could he say no? Even though Otabek liked to convince himself otherwise, he was only human.

 

Then it dawned on him. Yuri seemed to have his heart set on this. There had been a sort of eagerness to his request. He thought back to the last time they had had a drink together, in Milan. It was etched in his mind as one of the best nights of his life even if all he had done was lie against Yuri and stroke his hair. It had become one of those unspoken things between them, where they both just knew the other one acknowledged that what had happened was nice. And then it clicked. Maybe Yuri was using drinking as an excuse to get close to him again. Suddenly Mila’s words came to mind, her saying that Yuri was actually crazy about him but hadn’t realized it yet. Could he by now have realized? For the first time ever, Otabek felt a spark of hope, leaving him light-headed. Was this Yuri Plisetsky’s way of trying to hook up?

 

He instantly also saw the drawback. Otabek had no estimation of how far Yuri was willing to let a situation like that go. Plus, when Otabek drank he would have less control over his actions and emotions. The last thing he wanted was for himself to get so inebriated he would end up doing things with Yuri the blond would regret. He had no desire to take advantage of the situation. Furthermore, he didn’t know what it exactly was that Yuri would want from him. Would it be something that was meant to be sweet and soft, just cuddling, maybe a kiss? Would it be an easy hook-up on a whim or something meaningful and intimate? Or did Otabek read too much into the situation and all Yuri really wanted was to casually have a drink with a friend? Otabek chastised himself for being willing to take anything that Yuri would throw his way. He would need to take it slow. Drink with Yuri, but not too much. He then promised himself that whatever would happen, he would wait for Yuri to make the first move, if any. But that wouldn’t stop him from flirting and trying to get under Yuri’s skin.

 

After a moment of silence, Otabek then walked to the couch and sat across from Yuri.

 

“Alright, Plisetsky, pour me a whiskey.”

 

Yuri beamed at him and Otabek felt his chest constrict.

 

“Which one do you want?” he asked, now leaning towards the bottles on the table.

 

“Pick one for me. I would like it on the rocks if possible.”

 

“I’ll check if we have ice!”

 

Yuri picked up both tumblers and got to his feet. As he walked towards the kitchen Otabek stared at his ass. It was just his luck that Yuri had chosen that night to wear something so tight, he couldn’t help but ogle him. Otabek had caught himself eyeing up the blond’s backside more times than he was willing to admit. Even the top Yuri was wearing was revealing, falling way past his shoulder and so short it showed his belly-button. This was going to be torturous.

 

He noticed that Tigr sat perched on the windowsill, swishing her fluffy tail. She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Don’t you dare judge me,” he muttered sternly.

 

She slowly blinked. Tigr apparently had no interest to witness the scenario that was about to unfold. She gracefully leapt of the windowsill and disappeared towards the hallway, her tail held high.

 

Yuri returned, both tumblers filled with a couple of ice cubes. He sank to his knees again in front of the coffee table, reached for a bottle of whiskey at random and poured Otabek a generous amount. He slid the glass towards him, still smiling. By now, Otabek felt parched.

 

“What are you having?” he asked.

 

Yuri took a moment to look at the bottles and picked one of the creamy liqueurs. After filling up his own glass, he held it out to Otabek.

 

“To Lilia,” Yuri declared, “Who’s on Tenerife and who keeps the place well stocked.” 

 

Otabek laughed. “Alright, cheers.”

 

They tapped their glasses and locked eyes. Otabek felt light-headed again even before the first drop of whiskey hit his tongue. He took a large gulp. So did Yuri, he noticed.

 

Yuri then fully leaned over the coffee table, avoiding the bottles. He reached just past Otabek to pluck one the cushions off the couch next to him. In the process, Yuri’s shirt gaped open so wide, Otabek was treated to the sight of his smooth chest and nipples again. Otabek started wondering if Yuri knew what he was doing. He might as well take that damn shirt off.

 

Yuri placed the pillow under his butt, set himself down and took up his drink again.

 

“So how was your bath?” he asked. Otabek thought the little smile he gave him over the rim of his glass was positively devilish.

 

“It was nice,” Otabek answered, keeping a straight face.

 

“Did you like the bath bomb?” Yuri continued.

 

“Yura, I’m covered in glitter and you fucking know it.”

 

Yuri started giggling loudly. “Let me see!”

 

He took another big gulp of liqueur before crouching towards Otabek on his hands and knees. Suddenly the blond was at his feet looking up at him expectantly. He then pulled on Otabek’s arm, holding it up so he could see it was indeed covered in tiny sparkles. The giggling continued.

 

“Are you proud of yourself?” Otabek tried to scold him, but it really came out teasing.

 

“Yeah,” Yuri answered and, dear god, looked at him, still holding his arm.

 

“It’s a good look on you, Beka.”

 

Otabek tried so hard to keep his composure, to keep his breath steady.

 

He held on to Yuri’s eyes, cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Really, Yura, is that so?”

 

Then he slowly, deliberately, took a long drink of whiskey and flicked his tongue over his lips.

 

Yuri became silent. His eyes widened, he parted his lips. His grip on Otabek’s arm tightened, ever so slightly. It was then that Otabek saw.

 

Yuri quickly let go of his arm and jumped to his feet.

 

“You should take a glitter bath more often,” he said offhandedly.

 

He moved back to the coffee table to pick up his glass and threw back the rest of his drink.  Even though the blond tried to take on his usual air of indifference again, Otabek realised now. Yuri was _flirting_ , but got flustered and he was trying to hide it. Suddenly, he knew what that expression was which Yuri had worn. It was want.

 

_He wants me._

 

It was all Otabek had hoped for. He would let Yuri have him.

 

 

 ---

 

 

Yuri put his empty glass back on the table. “You’re behind, Beka.”

 

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” Otabek remarked.

 

Yuri placed his hands on his hips. “Everything is a competition.”

 

“What’s the prize?”

 

Now it was Yuri’s turn to smirk and cock an eyebrow at him, his green eyes piercing.

 

“The satisfaction of getting what you want.”

 

Otabek was dumb-founded.

 

Yuri unaffectedly ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it slightly. “I’m doing a shot. Care to join?”

 

Otabek drank the rest of his whiskey.

 

“Okay, hit me up.”

 

Yuri reached towards the shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. He poured the drinks and handed Otabek a shot glass. They held them up at each other and simultaneously knocked them back.

The liquor burned Otabek’s throat. Yuri immediately poured himself another glass of liqueur and took his phone from the coffee table. Instead of going back to the pillow on the floor, he seated himself next to Otabek on the couch, curling up his legs underneath him. Otabek silently observed him, the alcohol already slightly affecting him. Yuri had this gorgeous blush on his face, colouring his cheeks pink. His blond hair fell over his bare shoulder and collar-bone. Otabek thought he looked other-worldly, captivating. Yuri chuckled at something on his phone.

 

“Shit Beka, like half of the Angels want to lick your face.”

 

“What?”

 

“Or you know, other body parts,” Yuri said, grinning at the device in his hand.

 

“Yura, what the hell are you talking about?”

 

Yuri then leaned in and held up his phone so Otabek could see what he was looking at. It was a picture of himself. He was standing on the ice in a wide stance. His arms were slightly bent, which showed off his defined muscles. His gaze was turned away from the camera, his mouth slightly parted, his brows knitted as per usual. 

 

“I didn’t even know you took that.”

 

“Yeah, after your step sequence.”

 

Then he noticed some of the comments contained highly inappropriate suggestions. 

 

“Why did you post it?”

 

“Because you looked good.”

 

Otabek’s eyes shot up to Yuri. He was speechless. Before he could figure out what to say to this, Yuri was already talking.

 

“You know what we should do? We should post a selfie together. That’ll really make them lose their shit.”

 

Otabek didn’t understand. “I thought you said you didn’t like it when people assumed things about us, like that we’re together.”

 

“I didn’t say that. I said people would bother you about it.”

 

Yuri leaned back and arched his spine, flicking his hair.

 

“But you said you’d manage,” he said accusingly.

 

Otabek felt his patience was being tested in the most cruel way imaginable. He felt he had no choice but to comply.

 

“Alright, let’s take a selfie together.”

 

Yuri flashed him a smile and scooted over to him. He was now so close, he might as well had placed himself in Otabek’s lap. He held up his phone.

 

Otabek looked up at the screen. Yuri moved in on him, his face so close he could smell the shampoo lingering on his hair.

 

“Come closer. Do that eyebrow thing you do,” Yuri ordered him.

 

Otabek did as he was told. Their faces were now almost touching. Yuri was slightly pouting at the camera, giving it such a bratty look that it became smoldering. It was unfair, Otabek thought, that he looked so fucking irresistible.

 

Yuri snapped a couple of shots. After seemingly being content with the quality of the pictures, he put his phone down but made no indication of moving away.

 

Otabek wanted so much to kiss Yuri, but he remembered he promised himself he wouldn’t instigate anything. He waited. But Yuri had turned his attention to his phone, busying himself with posting the picture on his Instagram account. Otabek couldn’t believe Yuri was being such a goddamned tease.

 

He took a deep breath. His whiskey glass stood abandoned on the table, all the ice melted way. He stood up. Yuri tore his eyes away from his phone and looked at him questioningly.

 

“I’m getting more ice,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He picked up his glass and walked towards the kitchen.

 

As he placed his glass on the counter, he noticed Yuri had followed him. He didn’t turn around, waiting for Yuri to speak. But Yuri didn’t say anything. Instead he took two strides towards Otabek, until he was standing just behind him. Otabek was about to say something, but then he felt Yuri rest his head softly between his shoulder blades. He froze.

 

He could feel Yuri shakily breathe into him. Yuri then gently brought his nose up to the base of his neck. Otabek’s breath hitched. Yuri placed his fingertips on his sides, sliding them carefully along his waist. Hesitantly, Yuri’s arms encircled him, his hands sliding over his stomach. Yuri pressed his chest against his back and he shivered, a current running along his spine. As he held on to him, Yuri raised his head, brushing the back of Otabek’s hair with his cheek. Then Yuri’s lips touched a spot on the side of his neck. Otabek didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare move. He couldn’t stop trembling. He was dizzy, enveloped in Yuri’s scent.

 

Yuri’s hands started moving, his fingertips caressing his stomach, tracing lines along his abdominals through the thin material of his shirt. Slowly, he moved them down, reaching the hem. Otabek could hear Yuri lick his lips, biting them so the metal of his piercing clicked his teeth. Yuri put his mouth to his neck again and kissed him, feathery-soft.

 

He paused. Then Yuri kissed his neck again, more forcefully. His fingertips slid under the hem of Otabek’s shirt, touching his bare skin, caressing him. Otabek’s breath was coming out in short gasps now. He let out a moan, his self-control slipping away under Yuri’s fingers. He felt heat pool to his stomach, his cock rapidly hardening. Yuri’s breath became harsh and Otabek felt him flick out his tongue, tasting him. Otabek leaned into him, tilting his head. Yuri then moved his hips against his ass and he felt Yuri was fully hard, pressing against him wantonly. One of Yuri’s hands moved upwards over his abs, drawing small circles with his fingertips. The other hand was placed under his navel, on the waistband of his pants.

 

Then Yuri’s voice came from the crook of his neck, husky, pleading. 

 

“Tell me to stop.”

 

Otabek was completely overcome, his head swimming. He placed his hand on Yuri’s, lingering on his pelvis.

 

He whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much like Yuri Plisetsky, I like to be a goddamned tease.  
> Please let me know if you like the build-up for this chapter.  
> Tune in next time for The Good Stuff.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, an entire chapter of porn.
> 
> Check the tags.
> 
> I have no excuses, nor regrets.

He felt Otabek’s hand on his own, heard him whisper those words. Yuri let go of every final doubt he had. Otabek didn’t want him to stop. He had let him roam his hands over his body, kiss his neck, press up against him to show, to let him feel, how much Yuri hungered for him. He had become pliant under his touch, opening up to him, giving him exactly what Yuri craved for. Otabek, silent, beautiful, coming undone just for him. Yuri could no longer contain himself. He crashed his mouth against Otabek’s neck again, his kissing becoming more like licking, biting. He breathed into him, deeply, intoxicated by that scent he had missed since that night in Milan. Otabek had pulled his hand away and was now gripping the counter he was standing against. Yuri continued tracing his hands over his chest, his stomach, his pelvis. He had to have more of him, he had to see him. Yuri reached out to Otabek’s shoulders, felt the muscles he had admired for so long. Then he leaned back slightly just to give himself enough room to spin Otabek around. 

They stared at each other. Yuri had never seen Otabek like this before. Even in his fantasies he had never imagined this exact expression. The look of shock and longing carved on Otabek’s features. His lip slightly trembling, his pupils wide, his eyes fiery. He was perfect. Then Otabek leaned towards him and captured his mouth with his own.

It was strange. He didn’t expect his first kiss, his first proper kiss, to be like this. It wasn’t like in movies where people gazed into each other’s eyes and quietly pressed their lips together. It wasn’t like the clumsy and awkward attempt of the boy who lived in the apartment just below his grandfather on one summer evening, in a park in Moscow. It was hot and messy, teeth clashing, tongues slick, sliding against each other. Him desperately lapping at Otabek’s mouth, hoping he was doing this right, but being far to consumed with desire to be self-conscious about it. Yuri marvelled at how good Otabek tasted, the tang of the whiskey mingling with the creamy sweetness of the liqueur still on his tongue. He felt Otabek’s hand shoot up to his hair, gripping it tightly, him gaining dominance now over Yuri’s mouth. He moaned in surprise and Otabek let out this sound, this growl, from the back of his throat. He felt Otabek’s other hand on his ass, squeezing him, pushing him forward to collide with his hips against Otabek.

It was then that Yuri felt Otabek against his groin, heavy and large. With a gasp he pulled himself away from his mouth and cast his eyes down. There was a more than impressive bulge tenting Otabek’s pants. 

“Fuck, Beka, you’re big.” 

He looked up at Otabek, amazed at such a discovery, but Otabek had turned his gaze away. Instead of being smug about something like that, he seemed shy. It was both endearing and incredibly arousing. Yuri flashed him his teeth, chuckled. He reached out and pressed his palm against Otabek’s cock, spreading his fingers to try to fully cup him. Yuri thought Otabek’s reaction was amazing. He grunted, bit his lower lip, leaned his head back against the kitchen cabinet behind him. He watched Yuri, his dark eyes half-lidded, surrendered under his touch. He applied more pressure and saw Otabek screw his eyes shut, still biting his lip as he bucked his hips involuntarily. He kept stroking him through his pants, and became aware of his own erection straining obscenely against the tight material of his leggings. He craved friction, craved to continue making Otabek look like that, give him pleasure. He pulled back his hand and instead thrust his hips against Otabek. Otabek hissed at the full contact, his eyes shot open to look at him. Yuri looked back, placed his hands on Otabek’s sides, clutching his shirt. He held on to his eyes and thrust into him again. And again. With his mouth slightly open, his breath coming out in short gasps, Otabek started bucking up against him, causing their cocks to rub together through the material of their clothing. The movement was making Yuri dazed. He was bewitched by Otabek’s scent, his face, his body making pleasure course through him. Their ministrations fell into a steady rhythm, as Otabek let Yuri fuck him against the counter, right there in Lilia’s pristine kitchen, meeting his hips at every thrust. 

 

Otabek started letting out these sounds, whimpers, which Yuri wanted to drown with his mouth. He kissed him, kept grinding to maintain that delicious friction, their bodies causing a dull pounding against the kitchen cabinets. Yuri brought one of his hands up to Otabek’s face, ran his fingers along the soft, dark brown hair of his undercut. He caressed his cheek, his jaw, feeling the slight scrape of his stubble. Otabek hummed, stopped kissing him. And then with that low, silky voice of his, he moaned.

“Yura, feels good.”

Yuri groaned. The words shot straight to his cock. He needed more, wanted to have Otabek underneath him or on top of him. Anything as long as he could take off his clothes and touch Otabek more.

“Do you want to go to my room?” Yuri asked breathlessly.

“Yes.”

He pushed himself away and took Otabek by the arm, pulled him, dragged him into the living room. Just as they crossed the threshold of the hallway, Otabek was all over him again, nipping eagerly at Yuri’s neck, burying his face in Yuri’s hair. Yuri laughed.

“Wait until we get to the damn bed, at least.”

He took a few more steps, Otabek just behind him, and opened the door to his bedroom. There he shot forward and switched on the small light on his nightstand. He turned around and saw Otabek standing by the door, waiting. And then it was just like in his fantasy. Otabek slowly pulled the grey tank over his head. Seeing Otabek’s broad chest, the ripped muscles of his abs, which he had previously only peeked at in locker rooms, was glorious. Even from a distance, in the soft glow of the light, Yuri could tell Otabek’s tan skin shimmered. His track pants hung dangerously low on his hips, showing fine hair going from underneath his navel to his groin. He still couldn’t believe the size of the bulge resting between Otabek’s legs. 

Yuri then noticed Otabek was staring at him with such an intensity it made his knees shake. 

“You take off that ridiculous shirt,” Otabek demanded suddenly.

Yuri thought he couldn’t possibly get more turned on, but somehow Otabek had managed to do that by a fucking command. 

Yuri pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.”

He tugged at the neck of his top and discarded it. Otabek now gave him that devastating smirk and his next command sounded goddamned predatory.

“Take off those leggings as well.”

Now it was Yuri’s turn to try and hide any shyness. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his leggings and carefully peeled off the tight material. When he came back up, he glanced at Otabek through his eyelashes. He saw Otabek’s chest heaving. Yuri purposefully hadn’t put on any underwear and was now standing before him completely naked, his cock erect. He felt the weight of Otabek’s gaze. When Otabek spoke, a growl had returned to his voice.

“You’re a fucking tease, Plisetsky.”

Yuri tentatively took a step forward. He smiled and pulled Otabek towards him on the waistband of his track pants.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

Otabek reached to his waist and let both his pants and boxers pool to the floor. Yuri hadn’t meant to lose his mind over this, to make his breath hitch. But the full sight of Otabek’s thick cock left him mesmerised. 

“Touch me, Yura, please,” Otabek asked and there was so much need in his voice, so much hunger in his eyes, Yuri wouldn’t dream of hesitating.

He wrapped his hand around Otabek’s shaft, gently tugging the foreskin down and gave him a slow pump. Otabek closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Yuri cupped his face with his other hand, ran his thumb over his chin, his lower lip. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Beka,” he heard himself say, his voice raspy.

Yuri kissed him and continued pumping Otabek’s cock at a slow pace. Otabek put out his strong, broad hands to Yuri’s ass, kneading it firmly. Then one of those hands travelled to his hips, his groin, until Otabek had reached Yuri’s cock and started stroking him. Sparks went flying up Yuri’s spine, making him cry out. 

Otabek matched the speed of his tugs to Yuri’s. He felt the pleasure building, spreading from his groin through his body. He was unwilling to let this end here. He needed Otabek on the bed. He stopped his ministrations and pulled Otabek along. 

Otabek looked momentarily confused as to why Yuri stopped, until Yuri pushed him down on the mattress. He looked up at him in awe, as Yuri placed himself above him, his knees on either sides of Otabek’s hips. Next to the night light, he saw it again, Otabek completely flecked in the tiniest golden sparkles. He wanted to devour him.

He started at his neck and worked his way down, along those incredible pecks, gently biting his nipple. While he was leaving licks and kisses all over his stomach, Otabek tensed up. Yuri however, was undeterred and wanted to continue further down. He palmed Otabek’s cock, which lay heavy against his pelvis. Then Yuri looked at him, questioningly.  
Otabek seemed to catch on.

“Yura, you don’t have to…” he started.

“Please,” Yuri asked, the need making his voice quiver, “Let me taste you.”

All pride Yuri had ever possessed was gone. He didn’t care he was literally begging now to take Otabek’s cock in his mouth. Otabek trembled, but nodded.  
Yuri slid his hand over Otabek’s cock and held it up at the base, his fingers brushing the fine curls there. He placed himself between Otabek’s thighs on his knees, arching his back, sticking his ass up. He wetted his lips as he lowered his head down. Otabek’s cock was gorgeous, Yuri thought, a vein running along the thick shaft, beads of pre-cum gathered at the head. He flicked out his tongue against the tip, lapping at it experimentally. He tasted salty, but had a tinge of sweetness to him that Yuri found pleasant. He pressed his tongue harder against the head, along the slit and tried to carefully inch his lips down. Entranced, he heard Otabek moaning above him. Not entirely sure of what he should do, he tried bobbing his head, taking more of Otabek’s cock into his mouth each time. Unable to take him completely into his mouth, he also started moving his hand at the base of Otabek’s cock. The effect was stunning. Otabek started thrashing underneath him, rolling his hips, clutching the bed sheets. Yuri desperately wanted to make him cum, just like this. But he also really wanted to look at Otabek’s face.

With one final bob, he let Otabek’s cock slide out of his mouth, strings of his spit still clinging to him. He climbed on top of Otabek, straddling him, still holding on to his cock with one hand.

“I want to make you cum, Beka,” he murmured, “I want to make you cum so badly.” 

He started stroking him, his pace quickening, taking in every expression on Otabek’s face. Otabek thread his fingers through Yuri’s hair again and Yuri leaned into him, letting him tug harder as his strokes became harsher. 

“Fuck,” Otabek hissed.

Then he pulled away Yuri’s hand and drew him closer, pressing his groin against his own. Otabek wrapped his hand around both their cocks and kept stroking, now at a furious pace. Yuri threw his head back, cried out at the sensation. He became aware of the sound of his bed shaking and creaking. The sound of their panting, their flesh slapping against each other. It was obscene and addicting. He looked at Otabek underneath him and in the soft glow that hit the sparkles on his skin it felt like fucking a sunrise.

Otabek’s pants became louder, his growls deeper and he started to tense up. Through his own mounting pleasure, Yuri kept observing him intently. He pushed his head far back into Yuri’s pillow, exposing the column of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he as kept swallowing down moans. Then he arched his back, lifting his spine of the mattress. Through gritted teeth, with a final low grunt that made Yuri’s head spin, Otabek came hard. Thick ropes of cum pulsed from his cock onto his stomach and his hand, still wrapped around himself and Yuri.  
He opened his eyes to look at Yuri, his chest still heaving. All Yuri’s fantasies could not possibly have amounted to this sight. 

He propped himself up on one arm and pushed Otabek’s hand away. Yuri then sat up in Otabek’s lap, his legs wide, leaving him exposed. He took his own cock in his hand, slick and sticky from Otabek’s cum. Yuri then continued to stroke himself, making Otabek watch him. As he looked at him and saw the pure adoration in his dark eyes, Yuri understood. He understood now that Otabek had always wanted Yuri, just as bad as he had wanted him. The pleasure, the satisfaction from that realization overtook him and all he could see behind closed eyelids were golden sparkles, as he spilled himself all over Otabek’s chest and stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this earlier than expected. I figured I should give you something nice for basically edging you in the final two chapters.
> 
> Please, please let me know if you have enjoyed this, if it was satisfactory, to your liking etc.  
> It is my first time writing porn like this.
> 
> I might be a bit slow responding to comments this weekend, as I'll be on a trip.  
> But please don't let that deter you from telling me if you liked this.
> 
> Next chapter will be afterglow (and perhaps a wrap up of this little story).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, fluff in the afterglow.
> 
> This fic will be longer than I have anticipated, so good news if you have been enjoying it so far! 
> 
> (Also, Happy birthday, Yuri, I guess! You little vixen.)

Completely spent, Yuri collapsed onto Otabek’s chest. Otabek listened to the blond’s heavy breathing gradually becoming calm and steady. He then carefully wrapped his arms around Yuri, intertwining their legs and they just lay like that for a while, both coming down from their high. Yuri eventually stirred. He reached for a box of tissues under his bed and took out a few sheets. While avoiding eye-contact with Otabek, his cheeks a deep crimson, he first gently wiped Otabek’s chest and stomach, before cleaning himself up. He also pressed a couple of tissues into Otabek’s palm. Otabek silently wiped his hands, eyeing Yuri tentatively, waiting for him to speak.

 

Yuri placed the wad of used tissues on his nightstand. He waited for a moment before he spoke, not looking at Otabek.

 

“So, that just happened.”

 

Otabek laughed softly. “Yes, it did.”

 

Yuri paused again. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” he then managed to stammer.

 

“Me?” Otabek asked incredulously.

 

Yuri still wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was staring at some fixed spot on the carpet, biting his lip piercing. Otabek realised Yuri was feeling nervous for some reason. Maybe he needed to reassure him, to tell him this hadn’t been some whim of his to just go along with whatever Yuri had instigated. He thought his actions had made his intentions clear, but maybe Yuri was under the impression Otabek’s passion had been fuelled by lust alone. He needed to tell him what he had planned on doing at the end of his trip to Saint Petersburg, to confess.

 

“Yura, look at me.”

 

Yuri finally looked up, his mouth and eyes set, worryingly. He was now digging his fingers in his bedding. Otabek sat up, took one of Yuri’s hands in his own and kissed it, rubbing the knuckles with his thumb. Yuri’s eyes became large.

 

“I was meaning to tell you this at the end of the week,” Otabek started, “But now this has happened and I guess it can’t be helped.”

 

He sighed and looked into Yuri’s eyes. “I am in love with you, Yura.”

 

Yuri gaped at him. “Since when?”

 

Otabek took a moment to think. “I realised in Pyeonchang. But I have been in love with you before that. I am not sure when it started.”

 

“I just know that ever since I saw you then, all I have wanted to do was kiss you,” he quietly added.

 

Otabek waited for Yuri’s reaction. The crimson on his cheeks had by now spread out to his ears and neck. He looked like he would either burst out laughing or crying.

 

“Goddamn you, Beka, for saying that with such a straight face,” he finally sputtered.

 

It looked as though Yuri’s mind was racing. He took a deep breath and asked in a small voice: “Seriously, since Pyeonchang?”

 

Otabek nodded, still holding on to his hand.

 

“What? You already knew, six months ago? Are you kidding me?” Yuri started to ramble, his voice becoming louder.

 

“What about Milan? You already knew that when I slept in your bed and you fucking _touched my hair_ and you didn’t tell me anything?”

 

Otabek flinched. “I was afraid. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I didn’t know how you would feel…”

 

“Well, obviously, I am in love with you too!” Yuri shouted.

 

A silence fell. Otabek could feel his skin tingle. The slumbering ache that had filled his chest whenever he had looked at Yuri suddenly dissipated as another feeling washed over him, one that made his heart feel light and his stomach flip. It was joy. Otabek clutched Yuri’s hand tighter and he couldn’t help but smile like a fool, feeling as though he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling like that even if he tried.

 

His voice trembled. “Do you mean that?”

 

What happened next, Otabek thought was nothing short of a miracle. Yuri smiled. Dazzling, unguarded, breath-taking.

 

“Yes!” Yuri cried out, “Yes, I mean that! How could I not?”

 

Yuri started laughing. His hair was messy and his shoulders were shaking and for a moment Otabek thought he was some sort of fairy prince, that had captured him and taken him to his bed. Otabek’s smile became wider as he chuckled along. Yuri let go of his hand, grabbed a pillow and held it to himself tightly, continued grinning.

 

“We’re such idiots. Aren’t you supposed to do the fucking heartfelt confession _before_ the actual fucking?”

 

“You started that.”

 

“I had to do something! I mean, I clearly was giving you hints and then I had you on the couch right where I wanted you and you just walked away! If you literally had given me one more minute I would have kissed you.”

 

“I didn’t think you would go through with it.”

 

“I would have! I have wanted to kiss you since I saw you yesterday. You have been here for a day now, giving me these ‘come-fuck-me’ looks licking my goddamned ice-cream and then nothing? I either wanted to throw myself out the window or in your lap. For you to feel that way about me for months and still act coy... How could you have been that patient for such a long time?”

 

“Unlike you, I have some self-control,” Otabek remarked.

 

“Oh yeah? You lost that pretty quickly once I put my hand on your dick.”

 

Yuri hunched over, buried his grin in his pillow. Otabek scooted over to him, put his head on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri peeked at him over the top of his pillow. Otabek smoothed his hair from his forehead and kissed it, over and over. Yuri squirmed. Then he asked something which was muffled by the pillow.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, do you want another drink?”

 

Otabek laughed. “Yes, but I thought that was a ploy to make a pass at me.”

 

“It was.”

 

Yuri got off the bed and made his way to a chest of drawers. He took out a pair of boxers and slipped them on.

 

“When were you on to me?” Yuri asked, feigning disinterest.

 

“When you were holding my arm, inspecting your handiwork,” Otabek said, referring to the glitter.

 

“You seem to thoroughly enjoy my _handiwork_ though,” Yuri quipped, his grin wider than ever.  

 

Otabek gave him a blank stare. “Oh my god, Yura.”

 

Yuri just chortled and picked up Otabek’s boxers off the floor. “Speaking of which, put on some underwear, because Jesus Fuck, apart from your crush that is the biggest secret you have been keeping from me.”

 

Otabek caught his pair of boxers Yuri tossed and glowered at him. “You are being way too bratty over that, Yura.”

 

Yuri shrugged. “Why don’t you find a good way to shut me up again?”

 

He turned on his heel towards the door. “Don’t move, I’ll get you another whiskey.”

 

Yuri left Otabek on his bed, putting on his boxers. Otabek took the time to observe Yuri’s bedroom. Yuri actually hadn’t shown it to him on arrival, so apart from stealing glimpses of it through Skype, this was the first time he was there in person. The room was completely different to the rest of Lilia’s apartment. It had dark purple walls, one of Yuri’s favourite colours, and grey curtains. The far wall on Otabek’s right-hand side consisted of a big built-in wardrobe with a mirror. One of the doors were slid open to display a jumble of tops and leggings thrown back haphazardly. To Otabek’s left in the corner next to the nightstand, were multiple shelves mounted with every type of cat plushie imaginable, reaching towards the ceiling. He spotted two plushies he had gifted Yuri previously, a big white Siberian tiger and a soft pretty lioness, placed prominently in the middle of the collection. Otabek only now noticed that Yuri’s bedding today was printed with bright orange tiger stripes. All these little aspects of the room conveyed something about Yuri’s personality that he recognised. Even though the scent that lingered now had intermingled with that of sex, it was still very much Yuri’s own Otabek could pick up the strongest. While sitting there in his underwear on the double bed, his and Yuri’s clothing still discarded on the plush carpet across the room, Otabek felt foolish and happy.

 

\---

 

Yuri returned with two tumbler glasses filled with alcohol and ice cubes. He also had tucked his phone into his boxers, where it was stuck between the elastic and his hipbone.

After Yuri had handed him his glass, he flipped out his phone and sat cross-legged next to Otabek on the bed.

 

“I am going to prove you that I actually wanted to kiss you,” he said while swiping the screen.

 

Otabek regarded the blond who now was looking up something on his phone with a sort of anticipation. He showed him the picture he had taken earlier. Both of them were looking somewhat sexily into the camera. To his delight Otabek had to admit they looked good together. But what really caught his attention was the caption Yuri had included.

 

_I got him next to me on the couch. Should I go for it?_

The comments were madness, chaos. People shouting in all caps lock. Otabek couldn’t believe it. Yuri had deliberately posted this picture for the world to see, with the intention behind it being more than suggestive. The look in their eyes, their smiles, their closeness had all conveyed the perfect storm to be regarded as more than friendship. And Yuri had called out to whomever it may have concerned to spur him on.

 

Shocked he looked to Yuri again, who merely seemed self-satisfied.

 

“I was typing it when you got up all of a sudden. I was going to ask you to answer the question for me. And then I would have kissed you, like this.”

 

Yuri leaned forward and closed his eyes. It was the most chaste kiss Yuri had given him yet.

The blond’s eyelashes fluttered open as he whispered something against his mouth.

 

“But it turned out a little bit differently. More like this.”

 

He pressed his mouth to Otabek’s, nipped at it. Otabek closed his eyes and tilted his head, letting Yuri claim him. He loved making Yuri so bold. He couldn’t deny that Yuri wanting to show him off struck some cord with him, secretly made him prideful. He was at odds with himself. Otabek was a very private person, yet he wanted the world to know that Yuri could have him. And also that beautiful Yuri, bad boy darling, adored by many, _belonged to him_.

A shiver ran through him. The blond was biting at his lower lip now, the metal of his piercing pressing into him. Otabek licked across Yuri’s lips, sliding his tongue over to feel the little steel balls. Gorgeous Yura, with his piercings and his airs, hissing at the world but smiling just for him. Prettily asking to suck his cock and make him cum, fucking him against a kitchen counter.

Making out with him in his bedroom after yelling that he was in love with him.

 

All too soon, Yuri pulled back and smugly took a drink from his glass.

 

Otabek was mesmerised. “That picture you took. I can’t believe you are such a-”

 

 “I believe your exact wording to describe me was _fucking tease_ ,” Yuri cut him off.

 

“But don’t start with me on teasing you and taking provocative pictures. What about the one you took?” Yuri continued.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“The picture you sent me. You know the one I am talking about.”

 

Otabek realised Yuri was referring to the picture he had sent him in April. “Oh. What about it?”

 

“Come on! You must realise now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then you show up here wearing that grey tank and those pants? You are the one that’s a tease.”

 

Otabek internally applauded himself. His initial disappointment in failing to make an arousing impression on Yuri had apparently been false all along. He decided against telling Yuri he had taken several shots just to make his muscles and the outline of his cock look just right.

 

“I was wondering if I had managed to give you dirty thoughts with that,” he admitted.  

 

“Well you did, so you can be fucking proud of yourself.”

 

 “Still, even after sending that picture, you say now I was provoking you, but you managed to hold back. ” Yuri contemplated as he took a sip.

 

When he spoke again, Yuri’s green eyes had a fierce glint to them. “I don’t want you to ever hold back on me anymore, Beka. Your feelings, your desires. Don’t hold them back.”

 

Yuri’s voice was low and husky and Otabek couldn’t help but let scenes from his fantasies pass through his mind. Him pulling Yuri’s hair, mercilessly pounding into him. Yuri letting him do anything he wanted to him, enjoying it.

 

“Yura, do you understand what you are saying?” Otabek said slowly.

 

Apparently Yuri could tell he had struck a nerve with with Otabek.

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

Yuri cast his eyes down, suddenly bashful. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, when you told me, _demanded_ of me that I take my clothes off?”

 

Otabek had trouble swallowing his whiskey.

 

“You can do that more often, if you like,” Yuri suggested quietly.

 

“Are you sure, Yura?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Otabek propped up the pillows against Yuri’s headboard and leaned back. He sipped his drink but motioned for Yuri to come over. Yuri took this as a sign to crawl over his bed and settle his back against Otabek’s chest. Yuri sighed contentedly, but there was still one more thing nagging Otabek’s mind.

 

“So one question remains now. Are we going to be boyfriends, or not?”

 

“See, I KNEW you were going to say something ridiculously corny like that!” Yuri shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder.

 

“Answer the question, Yura.”

 

Yuri pouted. “Yeah, I want to. If you want that too, I mean.”

 

“I have never wanted anything more in my entire life.”

 

And it was true. Yuri smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, but I just had to put those final lines in there.
> 
> This was just a sweet lay over on our way to Sin Town. 
> 
> Please note the dynamics I am steering these characters towards in this chapter.  
> I think you will understand by now what I am getting at.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about that shift in character dynamics: check the tags, dears.

Yuri woke up to the sunlight hitting his face. He groggily rubbed his eyes and felt something, or rather someone, next to him stir. He turned and saw Otabek, his eyes closed, his chest softly rising and falling. Even in his sleep he looked god-like, Yuri mused.

 

The events of the previous evening came back to him. This gorgeous creature in his bed was now his boyfriend. Yuri felt as though he had won another gold medal and broken a world record again. They had fallen asleep after snuggling and finishing their drinks and Yuri realized he had no idea what time it was. He picked up his phone, located next to empty tumblers and a wad of used tissues on his nightstand. It was already past 10.00 and he had three missed calls. They were all from Yakov of course. He also saw many people had texted him. Mila, Yuuri, Victor, Yuuko and for some reason even Georgi. Yakov had sent a text as well. He decided to just read that one.

 

**Mila told me you and Altin are most likely not coming to practice today. Kindly inform me of such a thing yourself instead of just turning off your phone again. I expect you and Altin back the day after tomorrow at eight sharp.**

Well, at least that saved him the hassle of having to call Yakov back. He suddenly also realised why he had gotten so many texts. People must by now have seen that picture he had posted on Instagram last night. He peeked at the app and the notifications were off the hook.

His plan had not exactly worked out the way he hoped it would have, but nevertheless he had gotten what he wanted. Unfortunately he had to deal with the consequences of posting that picture, but decided he didn’t feel like it right now, so he tossed his phone back on the nightstand.

 

Next to him he heard Otabek grunt. With tousled hair and sleepy eyes he was looking up at him, smiling. If Yuri were honest, he would want to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life.

 

“Good morning,” Yuri greeted, “Great news. Practice is cancelled.”

 

“You called Yakov?” Otabek asked.

 

“I didn’t need to. Because of that little stunt I pulled last night with the picture, everyone and their great-aunt will assume we won’t be leaving the bedroom.”

 

Otabek cocked an eyebrow. “Will we leave the bedroom?”

 

Yuri grinned. “Well, I would like some coffee. And something to eat, other than you.”

 

Otabek stretched himself. “You are terrible.”

 

“I thought you liked that about me,” Yuri pointed out.

 

He rolled out of bed and pulled on Otabek’s arm, who got up and followed him. The living room was exactly as they had left it, all the bottles out, the lights still on. Tigr sat on the couch and meowed at them, unimpressed. Yuri groaned but petted her.

 

“I feel like being watched by Lilia’s spy,” he said and addressed his cat, “You are such a traitor.”

 

She followed Yuri and Otabek into the kitchen, demanding fresh sustenance. After feeding Tigr and preparing coffee and oatmeal, they sat at the table together in a comfortable silence. Both of them were just smiling at each other over their coffee mugs. Yuri thought that if it felt this wonderful to be stupidly in love, he didn’t want to wise up.

 

Otabek broke the silence. “So if we have no practice today, what is the plan?”

 

“There’s nice places to eat at on Gorokhovaya. And we could go watch a movie. There’s this small movie theatre that shows these cult flics and classics. I have been meaning to tell you about it. It’s totally up your alley, being the dork that you are.”

 

“How very thoughtful of you, Yura,” Otabek smiled.

 

\---

 

They lazed around for the rest of the morning huddled together on the couch, Otabek reading his paperback and Yuri snorting at comments and texts on his phone. When they finally decided to get washed and dressed to head out, Yuri slowed down the process by taking his sweet time on deciding what to wear. He stood in front of his big wardrobe, frowning, when Otabek walked in already dressed.

 

“You know what really irritates me?” Yuri began, “I had this one particular hoodie, with leopard print on the sleeves and a silver zipper, but for the life of me I have no idea where that thing went. I haven’t been able to find it for months and I think I accidentally left it somewhere.”

 

“You did. I have it,” Otabek said to Yuri’s surprise.

 

“What do you mean, you have it?”

 

“You left it in my hotel room in Milan.”

 

Yuri was baffled. “And so you took it? And you have failed to mention that to me for five months? Like, ‘Oh by the way Yura, I found your hoodie’.”

 

“It must have slipped my mind,” Otabek said casually.

 

“Slipped your mind?” Yuri asked incredulously, “Beka, you remember what we had for dinner at summer camp seven years ago. You didn’t forget about it. Bullshit.”

 

Otabek just rolled his eyes and tried to look as innocent as possible. Something dawned on Yuri.

 

“Beka, what were you doing with my hoodie?”

 

Otabek silently gazed at him, but a little smirk crept onto his lips.

 

Yuri couldn’t believe it. “You’re a fucking pervert, aren’t you?”

 

Otabek shrugged, seemingly uninflected.

 

“So now you have had your way with my goddamned hoodie and actually have the real thing, can I have it back?”

 

“Why don’t you come get it in Almaty?” Otabek suggested.

 

“I will!” Yuri huffed.

 

He decided on picking a slouchy grey cardigan that went well with his white v-neck and ripped skinny jeans and they were finally ready to head out.

 

\---

 

As they were riding the metro on their way to the movie theatre, the realisation sank in that something fundamentally had changed between him and Otabek. Yuri felt more comfortable and at ease than ever before around Otabek, while still experiencing this giddy feeling in his stomach every time they looked at each other. Otabek was sitting next to him, one hand resting on his knee and Yuri had the sudden impulse to touch him. He then figured, _he could_. Yuri didn’t have to repress any urge he felt creeping up involving the man next to him, except of course sitting in his lap in a public place, because that would be gross and he wanted to pretend he had some amount of decency. But he could hold his hand if he wanted to. So he did. He interlaced his fingers with those of Otabek’s and the guy looked up at him positively beaming. Yuri blushed a deep shade of pink and he didn’t let go of his hand all the way to the movie theatre.

 

The matinee show featured the director’s cut of ‘Blade Runner’, very much to the enjoyment of Otabek, who got excited to see the movie on a big screen. While munching his popcorn and slurping his iced-tea, Yuri found that resting his head on Otabek’s shoulder was also a thing he could totally do now. Half-way through the movie they ended up holding hands again. Yuri thought that he could now understand Victor and Yuuri’s disgusting behaviour better.

 

After the movie they wandered the streets for a while and picked out a nice spot to have an early dinner. Just as they were finishing their meal, Yuri was disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing, which was no longer put on silent. When he looked at the display, he saw that it was Lilia.

 

“Oh shit, I better take this,” he informed Otabek.

 

He tried to sound as airy as possible after he pressed the green button accepting the call.

 

“Hey Lilia, how is Tenerife?”

 

“Warm, pleasant.” Lilia’s crisp voice answered him curtly.

 

“Oh, that’s good to hear.”

 

“Let’s cut to the chase here. Yuri, I have seen that picture of you and Otabek.”

 

Yuri’s face fell. “Oh.”

 

“So this is what you do? You persuade me to go on vacation and when you have the house to yourself, you invite your friend over and make him your lover?”

 

“Lover? He isn’t my lover! He is my, uh, boyfriend,” Yuri sputtered avoiding Otabek’s amused gaze.

 

“Boyfriend, lover, whatever. My point is you invited this boy over to my house to engage in a romantic relationship with him.”

 

“I didn’t exactly expect it to turn out that way.”

 

“You didn’t? You also didn’t think about the consequences of posting that picture online? The reaction of your fans and your sponsors?”

 

“What are you talking about, Lilia?” Yuri huffed, “Most fans would be thrilled about me and Otabek. As for the sponsors, my private life is hardly a concern to them.”

 

“You cannot be so sure about that, Yuri. You are more at the mercy of the media than you realize. And what about Otabek’s fans and sponsors? Have you discussed this with him?”

 

“Well, no,” stammered Yuri.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky, you better make sure you and that boy know what you are throwing yourselves into. Making a relationship work is hard enough as it is, even without the constant demand of the public spotlight. I should know.”

 

“Yes, mother,” Yuri sulked.

 

“Don’t give me that tone, young man.”

 

“Fine, I’ll be more careful. Anything else?”

 

“Yes. I know you won’t behave yourself now that you’ve got a man there at your beck and call, but at least be decent and clean up after yourselves before I get back. Tear yourselves away from the bedroom and don’t skip practice.”

 

“Oh my god, yes okay.”

 

“And keep out of the liquor cabinet.”

 

_All too late._

 

“Yes, Lilia.”

 

“Alright. I will see you again in five days.”

 

And with that Lilia hung up.

 

“Is everything alright?” Otabek enquired.

 

“Just Lilia giving me motherly advice. For some reason I want to finish that bottle of vodka and fuck on the rug on the living room floor now,” Yuri grumbled, feeling rebellious.

 

“Would you like to head back home?” Otabek asked dryly.

 

“Aren’t you eager all of a sudden?”

 

\---

 

Yuri was studying himself in the full length mirror of his wardrobe, hoping he looked okay.

Otabek had gone to take a shower after him and this worked out perfectly for Yuri since he could now take some time to plan out the rest of their evening. He turned around to look at the curve of his ass. If he were honest with himself, it wasn’t just an ‘okay’ look he was going for. He wanted to look absolutely ravishing. Fuckable. He had put on his nicest black boxers and paired it with a little black satin robe. It had been a find at a second hand store, from the section with ladies’ nightwear and the woman at the cash register had eyed him curiously when he had bought it, but of course he didn’t give a shit. The garment had wide three-quarter length sleeves and the black silky material just hit the tops of his thighs. The best feature was the embroidery on the back, a prowling tiger in a colourful Japanese style. He had secured the tie at the waist just so to expose a lot of his chest, the folds falling open each time he moved to reveal his nipples. He had put his hair half up in a bun again, added a few braids to it, to make it look extra nice. He had even dabbed on some cherry lip balm. It had a slight red tint to it and made his lips look all pouty. Yuri placed his hands on his hips, decided he was pleased with the result and hoped Otabek would appreciate it as well. He would totally fuck himself.

 

He proceeded to the living room and collected every candle he could find in the house. He placed them on the coffee table and on the surface of the cabinets, lit them and dimmed the lights. In a rush he took out his phone and made a playlist of music he named ‘songs to fuck to.’ Yuri decided it should mainly consist of raw, sensual rock music. Deftones, Nine Inch Nails, Type O Negative, that sort of thing. He spread out several pillows on the rug in front of the couch, the coffee table pushed slightly away. While blushing profusely, he slipped a small bottle of lube under one of the pillows remaining on the couch. It had been an impulse buy at the drug store at the time, but one he had found himself using quite regularly, mainly because Otabek had sent that picture. He didn’t have any condoms, but Yuri figured he was probably getting way ahead of himself as it was. They hadn’t discussed doing any of that yet. Still, Yuri wanted to make sure that if the mood was right, he didn’t need to rush over to his room all of a sudden. Yuri deliberated if he should have a talk with Otabek about this first or if the mood of the evening should set the tone and let things progress naturally.

 

He was disturbed from his thoughts by Otabek walking into the living room, clad in his grey tank and track pants. Otabek’s eyes went from the lit candles to the pillows on the floor to Yuri. A smile spread across his face and Yuri noticed he was trying not to let his eyes travel up and down Yuri’s body.

 

“I thought we should continue drinking,” Yuri offered as an explanation.

 

“Oh really?”

 

Otabek walked up to him and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressed a kiss to his temple.

 

“You look beautiful,” Otabek whispered against the shell of his ear.

 

Yuri could swear his heart jumped a little at that.

 

“Thanks,” he managed to stammer.

 

Yuri pulled himself away and went to the coffee table where he had put out some of the bottles of alcohol.

 

“Would you like whiskey again, or something else?”

 

“Give me one of those liqueurs you like so much,” Otabek answered, settling himself down on one of the pillows on the floor and leaned against the couch.

 

Yuri adjusted the volume on his phone, put on the playlist and the room filled with the sound of electric guitars, grinding out a pulsing melody. After he had poured the drinks, Yuri handed Otabek a glass, but he cocked an eyebrow at him.

 

“This is all very romantic, Yura. There’s no need to seduce me any further.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

He sat across from Otabek and observed him. Yuri was still in disbelief. Otabek was _so handsome_ really. The memory of him in that leather jacket, next to his motorbike had subconsciously featured in every wet dream Yuri has had since the age of 15. It all had been pushed back, repressed, forgotten until that moment when Otabek had purposefully shown himself as desirable to Yuri. He had tried hard not to let that feeling of want take him over, but to no avail. He had kept thinking about his body, his warm eyes, his pretty hair.

Apart from the way he looked Otabek was also just so damn cool and interesting. He listened to cool bands, mixed his own music, read these literary classics and knew lots of stuff about movies too. He had these friends in Almaty, who smoked, drank, rode bikes and looked like absolute punks, yet when Otabek spoke of them, in that low silky voice of his, they sounded endearing. He was mostly quiet, polite and kind, but with Yuri he would say something snarky and hilarious all of a sudden. Now that he could call this man _his boyfriend_ how was he expected not the be all over him every moment of the day?

 

Yuri took a long drink, set his glass aside and got on his hands and knees. He crouched over to Otabek who widened his legs expectantly, inviting Yuri to come closer. He got up to his face and gave him a peck, gaging Otabek’s reaction. Otabek kissed him back encouragingly, hummed. Yuri proceeded to give him soft, kittenish licks, loving the way Otabek’s tongue slid against his own. He noticed Otabek had put on that cologne Yuri loved so much, smelling like warmth and autumn. He so much wanted to have Otabek, on top of him, _inside him_.

 

He paused and then murmured. “Beka?”

 

“What, Yura?” Otabek asked, his voice raspy, “What do you need?”

 

“I want to do it,” Yuri said softly, “I want you all over me.”

 

Otabek took a sharp breath, continued kissing him. He felt Otabek’s hand in his hair, pulling him back. Otabek licked the column of his neck, started sucking, making Yuri squirm. He pushed him down to the rug, making sure Yuri’s head was placed on a pillow, stroked his hair before straddling him. He pushed back the folds of Yuri’s robe, leaving his chest completely exposed. He kissed the pale, smooth skin, circled his nipples with his tongue, applying pressure to the sensitive buds, making Yuri whimper. Then Otabek’s teeth scraped his collarbone and he started sucking, intent on leaving a mark. Yuri thought with a thrill on waking up the next day being covered in hickeys, as proof that Otabek had made him his.

 

The biting intensified and Yuri moaned. Suddenly Otabek growled against his skin.

 

“I am so hard for you, Yura.”  

 

Yuri felt his cock twitch at that. He put his hands to the tie on his waist, but Otabek stopped him.

 

“No, leave it on. I want you looking dishevelled like this.”

 

Yuri stared at him in shock, but Otabek had the audacity to casually run a hand through his own hair and give him a trademark smirk.

 

“You are actually fucking dirty, Beka,”

 

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin as Otabek put his hands on the waistband of Yuri’s boxers. Yuri trembled as he lifted his hips. Otabek slowly pulled his underwear down, shifted himself to slide it over Yuri’s long legs. Otabek roamed his eyes over Yuri’s body lying quivering underneath him.

 

“Look at you,” he murmured, “All pretty for me.”

 

Yuri thought he would explode and that now would be as good a time as ever to bring up what he wanted.

 

“Beka, look under the cushion on the couch,” Yuri suggested quietly.

 

Puzzled, Otabek reached over. He retrieved the small bottle of lube, took a moment to register what it was and then eyed Yuri.

 

“And what do you suggest I do with this?”

 

Yuri swallowed. “Finger me.”

 

Otabek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I swear to god…”

 

He took off his tank, giving Yuri the pleasure of seeing his chiselled torso again. Then Otabek moved down Yuri’s legs to position himself on his knees between his thighs.

 

“Are you sure you want this, Yura?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Full of anticipation, Yuri watched Otabek flip the cap of the small bottle open. He already had trouble keeping his breath steady, so he tried breathing more deeply.

 

Otabek first spread some lube over the palm of his hand, rubbed it carefully, making it warm. Then he took Yuri’s cock in hand, squeezed it firmly and gave it nice, long strokes. Yuri watched, transfixed by Otabek sliding Yuri’s slick cock in his fist. Otabek paused to apply more lube on his fingers. Yuri noticed that Otabek was doing all this with a serious look on his face, his brows furrowed. Otabek gently continued stroking Yuri, but his other hand travelled downwards, his palm brushing Yuri’s balls until he reach a spot under his sack. There Otabek’s fingers started to caress him further till he reached the rim of his hole.

 

“Spread your legs wider,” Otabek ordered him.

 

Yuri thought he would die as he complied.

 

With one hand still stroking Yuri’s cock, Otabek started rubbing small circles with his fingers over Yuri’s hole, applying more pressure each time. Yuri started mewling, digging his heels into the rug. Finally Otabek slipped in a finger and Yuri gasped at the sensation. The stretch burned but felt good all the same. Otabek continued to pump his finger languidly, matching it up to the strokes on Yuri’s cock. Yuri heard himself moaning lewdly and wondered if he had ever made that sound when he had done this to himself. He cried out even louder when Otabek pushed in a second finger after a while. Yuri locked eyes with Otabek and saw he was studying his reactions. Otabek was heavily breathing and had the most lustful look in his eyes while watching him so intently. Then Otabek curled his fingers and Yuri saw stars.

 

“Fuck!” he panted, “That feels so fucking good.”

 

Otabek licked his lips, but kept on moving with a determined concentration. Something stirred within Yuri. While being fucked by his fingers, drunk on ache and pleasure, Yuri wanted to break Otabek. He wanted to lure him into losing that carefully crafted self-control, make Otabek growl at him, be _merciless_ with Yuri.

 

Otabek looked surprised when Yuri started chuckling through his moans.

 

“You love doing this to me, don’t you? I bet this is exactly what you were thinking about when you were jerking off, sniffing my clothes like a pervert.”

 

Otabek’s eyes became large. “Watch your mouth, Yura,” he warned him.

 

But Yuri continued. “I made you so fucking horny, so desperate to fuck me, you wouldn’t even give me back my goddamned hoodie.”

 

“Shut up,” Otabek commanded him, his voice hoarse.

 

“Make me,” Yuri teased through his moans.

 

Otabek abruptly stopped stroking Yuri’s cock. Instead he brought his strong hand over to Yuri’s face. He tightly gripped Yuri’s jaw, pressed his palm against his mouth, silencing him. His thumb and fingers dug into Yuri’s cheekbones and he smiled maliciously. Then he rammed his two fingers into Yuri harshly. Yuri wanted to cry out, but couldn’t, his voice being stifled by Otabek’s hand.

 

“Is this want you want, Yura? You want to be a bad boy that much?” Otabek hissed at him.

 

Yuri thought he couldn’t have possibly felt better, harder, but he was on edge now. Otabek smirked and kept pumping his fingers relentlessly. Yuri’s eyes rolled far back as he felt Otabek was now adding a third finger to his hole, maintaining a brutal pace.

 

“If you are good, Yura, I’ll make you cum. You promise to be a good boy?”

 

Yuri nodded, completely out of it. Otabek released his hand from his mouth and Yuri gasped, shouted. Otabek wetted his lips and shifted himself to bend over Yuri’s groin. He held Yuri’s cock up at the base and lowered his mouth on him, taking him in all at once.

 

“Oh fuck, Beka, yes!” Yuri yelled.

 

Otabek steadily worked his mouth on him, sucking and humming, his lips sliding along his shaft deliciously. Otabek curled his fingers again, all the while thrusting into him harshly, hitting that spot that made Yuri lose his mind. The pleasure was overwhelming, Yuri couldn’t hold on. So then, on the rug in the candlelit room, the drone of a baritone voice and guitars in the background, Yuri came with a final raw scream and shot his hot seed down Otabek’s throat.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I would forget about Yuri's hoodie, did you?
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoy this little thing between Otabek and Yuri.
> 
> Also, please note that Otabek hasn't found his release yet.
> 
> I'll be back with you as soon as I can. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?

Otabek’s mouth filled with Yuri’s cum and he greedily swallowed every drop, letting Yuri ride out his orgasm. He sat up on his knees, slowly slid his fingers out of Yuri and brought them to his face. Making sure the blond was watching him, he licked them and wiped his lips, taking in every taste Yuri could provide him. Yuri was looking up at him, eyes glazed with lust, completely debauched. His black little robe had fallen open, golden strands of hair spread out messily on the pillow, his pretty cock flushed and spent. Yuri, with his dirty mouth and angelic face, had caused him to snap, taunting him even when he had three fingers deep inside of him. All Otabek desired now, was to take him further apart. What marvelled Otabek the most, is that Yuri wanted him to. 

Otabek saw that even through Yuri’s haze, his breath hitched at the sight of Otabek pulling down his pants to his thighs, freeing his straining cock. He gave himself a few long strokes and leaned over to Yuri, caressing his cheek. 

“Yura,” Otabek said softly, his voice shaking, “If I do or say anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell me, okay?”

Yuri nodded. 

Otabek leaned back and let go of his cock. 

“Get on your knees,” he told Yuri.

Yuri slowly rose on all fours but Otabek stopped him.

“Sit up.”

Yuri complied. Otabek stood up, let his pants and boxers fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He turned his attention to Yuri who was watching him expectantly. Otabek reached out and patted his head, stroked his hair, threading the blond tresses. Yuri leaned into his touch and to his surprise, looked up at him adoringly. 

He put his hand to Yuri’s face, brushed his jaw and chin, caressing him where he had held on harshly only moments earlier. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip and gently pressed the digit over his piercing. Yuri opened his mouth, allowing his finger in and started sucking it. Otabek tightened his grip on Yuri’s jaw with the fingers resting under his chin. He pressed his thumb down on Yuri’s soft tongue, coating it with saliva. Then he slowly pulled his finger out of Yuri’s hot mouth and ran it along his lips, wetting them, making them red and pouty.

Otabek put his hand to his cock to continue stroking himself.  
“Lick your lips, Yura.”

Dazed, Yuri fixed his eyes on Otabek’s large cock and did as he was told. 

“More. Use spit.”

Yuri’s eyes shot up questioningly to Otabek, his brows furrowed, but Otabek just gave him a stern look, the corner of his mouth turned up. Otabek saw Yuri hesitate for a moment, but then the blond pushed out spit through his teeth and spilled it over his lips. He swiped his tongue, making his red lips glossy and shiny, still looking at Otabek. 

“Good boy.”

Otabek saw Yuri shiver. He stopped stroking himself and took a step forward, his groin level with Yuri’s face. He held up his cock, spreading pre-cum over the tip with his thumb.

“Suck the head.”

Yuri inhaled sharply and leaned in. To Otabek the world slowed down as he saw Yuri carefully slide his lips over the pink head of his thick cock. The little nub of Yuri’s piercing pressed into his flesh and, just like the night before, the sensation was amazing. Otabek felt his knees shake at the sight of the blond now eagerly lapping at the pre-cum along his slit. The robe had fallen past one shoulder as Yuri started moving his head, alternating sucking with the soft kittenish licks he had given Otabek before while kissing. It was as though Yuri was making out with him, perked up on his knees underneath him. It took a lot of will-power to not just ram himself into the blond’s willing mouth. Instead he worked his hand along his shaft in short, firm strokes. 

To Otabek, this felt like being in a different reality, the candlelight, the music, the object of his fantasies servicing him obediently. Since Yuri had reassured him, he felt all restraint had slipped away. He could let go, spill out his desires.

He petted Yuri’s head. “I want you to take me deeper, Yura.”

Yuri started swaying back and forth, taking more of Otabek’s shaft in with each bob. He felt Yuri’s hands reach out to his ass, grabbing and kneading for leverage. As the blond was working his cock, his tempo increased as well. Otabek groaned, enthralled by the way the bratty boy was sucking his dick fervently. He felt like testing Yuri, the same way the blond had been testing him before.

“You finally put that dirty mouth of yours to good use, Yura,” he mocked in a low voice.

Yuri moaned around his cock, sending a tremor through him and Otabek lost it. His hand shot out to Yuri’s hair and gripped it tightly by the scalp. He forced the blond to keep his head still and pulled himself out, leaving Yuri gasping.

The question had left his lips before he could stop himself.

“So you like sucking my cock like an eager little slut?” Otabek hissed. 

Without skipping a beat, Yuri looked up with half-lidded, piercing green eyes.

“Yeah.”

Otabek clenched his jaw and yanked Yuri’s locks to which the blond let out a startled little yelp. But then Yuri grinned and Otabek thought he felt his insides melt. 

While still holding on to his hair, Otabek forcefully grabbed Yuri’s jaw to make him look up again. The blond raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, waiting. 

Otabek took his cock in his hand and guided it to Yuri’s mouth, letting the tip trace Yuri’s pouty red lips. He then steadily pushed himself in, going as far as he could without gagging Yuri. Otabek held Yuri’s head still by his blond hair and rolled his hips. Yuri grasped Otabek’s powerful thighs to keep himself grounded from the impact, but opened his mouth wide to accommodate him. With low grunts, Otabek started thrusting his hips in earnest, every inch of his body set alight. He noticed Yuri did his best to let him ravage his mouth as much as he needed to let his pleasure build, his senses soar.

“You’re such a pretty, good boy, Yura. Letting me fuck your mouth,” he praised him. 

Yuri hummed, moaned wantonly around his cock again. Otabek gave himself over completely. His pace increased as his thrusts became harsher, panting hard. He tilted Yuri’s head to look at him, let him drown himself in those fierce green eyes, feeling himself near the edge.

“I’m going to cum, Yura,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Yuri dug his fingers deeper into Otabek’s thighs, gave no indication of wanting to move away. Otabek couldn’t hold back, wanted to empty himself into the beautiful boy he had longed for so long. With a few final heavy thrusts, he felt the pleasure wash over him as he came into Yuri’s mouth, hearing the blond choke and sputter. He jerked his hips back, sliding his cock out to spill cum over Yuri’s lips and chin. 

Light headed, he let go of Yuri’s hair and shakily stood back, entranced by the sight. Yuri was a mess. His robe had completely fallen off his shoulders and he was sporting a large purple bruise on his collarbone, courtesy of Otabek. His nice hairdo had fallen apart and Otabek’s seed covered his blushing face. Though Yuri trembled while licking his lips, he looked intensely happy. Otabek fell to his knees, almost in reverence. Yuri looked at him hazily, smiled shyly and wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe. 

Otabek felt his heart burst and took Yuri in his arms. He hugged him, kissed his neck, his jaw, tasted himself lingering on Yuri’s skin.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered.

Yuri laughed. “That was fucking incredible, Beka.”

 

\---

 

Otabek reluctantly pulled himself away from Yuri. Blushing, he pulled the robe back over Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri giggled coyly.

Otabek searched around for their drinks and handed Yuri his glass of liqueur. The blond took a big gulp. They both leaned back on the couch, pressed up together side by side on the floor. While sipping their drinks, they quietly caressed each other. Otabek listened to the music and watched the flicker of the candlelight, making Yuri’s hair the colour of honey. To Otabek this moment was bliss, perfection.

The blond shifted his head. 

“You’re really dirty, Beka,” Yuri said in awe, “I always kind of suspected it, but this exceeded my expectations. It’s always the quiet ones that are really kinky and have a big cock.”

Otabek’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, it’s not something you usually bring up in conversation.”

“It should be. ‘Hey, I’m well hung and into face-fucking’. That should be your opening line, actually.” Yuri sniggered.

Otabek snorted and buried his face in Yuri’s hair.

“It’s really cute you get embarrassed by that,” Yuri teased, brushing a strand of dark brown hair behind Otabek’s ear.

“We have never actually talked about that stuff, apart from yesterday when it just happened,” Yuri continued, “Sometimes you would make this off-hand comment, but just like you were joking.”

Otabek raised his head, listened attentively. 

“I mean, obviously I planned this and hoped it would happen.”

Yuri nuzzled the crook of Otabek’s neck. “I know that this is all going very fast. I tend to rush into things, which I sometimes end up regretting. But I knew this was something I wouldn’t regret.”

Otabek revelled in the feeling of Yuri so close against him, wanting to entrust Yuri his most private thoughts. “Me neither. I have been in love with you for such a long time. And these desires have become a part of that. Honestly, I worried about sharing them with you.”

Yuri looked up, locked eyes with him. “I told you yesterday, you don’t have to worry. If you’re afraid that I’ll think you’re too kinky or some shit, don’t be. I hope I’ve made it clear by now that I like that. A lot.”

“I’m glad, Yura.”

Yuri sat up. 

“I want you to do all the things you have thought about with me.”

“Well, this is a start,” Otabek admitted, smirking.

Otabek saw that Yuri looked unsure of what to say next. 

Yuri cast his eyes down. “Beka, I want you to top me.”

“What, right now? Because, honestly, I need a minute to recover.”

“Really, a minute? You know what I mean.”

Yuri took a deep breath. 

“You have been my best friend and I enjoy spending every moment with you. Saying goodbye to you every time has always been hard, but it’s going to be even harder now. We still have the rest of the week, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again after you go back.”

There it was. The thing Otabek had been dreading to think about. The past few days with Yuri had been like a dream from which he wasn’t willing to wake up. He didn’t want to think about the ache he would feel when he eventually had to go away. Instead he wanted to savour every moment he had with Yuri, imprint them in his mind, let them fill up his heart. The fact that this also worried and saddened Yuri showed how badly their feelings were mutual. 

Yuri sighed and continued. “I just want you in every possible way now that you’re here. Now that you’re mine. Not just for the sex, I want everything. I have never felt this way. I’m greedy, but I want to do everything to remember you by. ”

Yuri looked so vulnerable, so open, when saying this. Otabek felt that his entire being was consumed with nothing but love and it filled him so much he couldn’t do anything but let himself flow over.

“I feel the same,” he said quietly.

He cupped Yuri’s face in his hand and softly kissed him.

“Yura, I love you.”

Yuri answered, without hesitation. “I love you too, Beka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face-fucking and I-love-you's all in the same chapter, who would have thought?
> 
> I really hope I have not disappointed you with Otabek, our Dom in development.  
> Please let me know if you like how I have approached this side of his character.  
> In my head he is quite raunchy like this. What do you think: too filthy/just enough filth/not filthy enough?
> 
> I'm feeling motor bike rides, more fluff and smut for next time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter took me longer than I had anticipated. It also turned out very fluffy.  
> I hope you won't mind. There will be mentions of sex throughout, but as for the deed, well wait and read.

Yuri sat on his bed clutching his phone, deliberating if this was a good time in the morning to make a call. He had put this off for a day now, still high on the wave of emotions he was riding. He figured he ought to relay the news that he and Otabek had become a couple as soon as possible to one of the most cherished people in his life himself, rather than him hearing about it from someone else around town. He had actually spoken the words to Lilia first. By now she had probably phoned Yakov too and the news would have spread at the rink already. Determined not to let someone else beat him to the punch, Yuri dialled the number.

 

He was greeted by the warm voice of his grandfather. “Yuratchka!”

 

Yuri smiled. “Hey, grandpa.”

 

“I was wondering when you would call me. How are things?”

 

“Things are great!”

 

“Yes? Are you having fun with your friend Otabek? Are you showing him a good time?” his grandfather enquired.

 

_Having fun? If  only he knew the half of it._

 

“Yeah, I am. It’s what I’m calling you about, actually.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. The thing is, Otabek and I are uh, we’re boyfriends now...”

 

The line went silent for a while. “I see.”

 

He could picture the cautious look on his grandfather’s face.

 

“And how did that come to happen?”

 

_I started dry humping him in the kitchen after throwing myself at him like a tart._

“We talked,” Yuri said hastily, “And it turned out we uh, both really like each other. We have liked each other for a long time. So when we started uh, talking, that’s when we found out. Then we decided to be boyfriends.”

 

“Aha.”

 

Silence again. Yuri could hear his grandfather draw a breath.

 

“I guess you are at that age now, Yura, and Otabek, well...”

 

Nikolai paused, as though searching for the right words.

 

“From what I have seen on the pictures he looks a bit mischievous, but you have always spoken fondly of him.”

 

“He’s great, grandpa! You should meet him soon. I know you will like him,” Yuri reassured him.

 

“It sounds like he makes you very happy, Yuratchka.”

 

“He does,” Yuri beamed and hoped his smile reached all the way to Moscow, “Incredibly happy.”

 

Nikolai grumbled. “He better.”

 

Yuri laughed. “Don’t worry, grandpa.”

 

“I will try not to, though you are still little Yuratchka in my eyes,” he said warmly before adding in slightly worried tone, “Just be careful. I trust you to think responsibly when it comes to these matters. You know how to protect yourself, yes?”

 

Suddenly Yuri felt like screaming and flinging his phone away. It had been some years since he had received ‘the talk’ but this was just too much.

 

“Yes, grandpa,” he answered shrilly, “Like I said, don’t worry.”

 

“Alright,” Nikolai said, but still sounded doubtful.

 

“Enjoy your time together, Yuratchka. Thank you for sharing this with me. I will call you by the end of the week, okay?”

 

“Okay, grandpa. Goodbye. I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Yuri hung up. He thought that went better than expected. His grandfather had previously made comments about Otabek that weren’t exactly disapproving, but also not entirely in his favour. Granted, he mostly made those when Yuri had shown him pictures of Otabek and his motor bike or him looking surly at the camera. It was in those moments Otabek’s bad boy looks worked against him. Of course, those looks were precisely one of the reasons Yuri had fallen so hard for the guy. Maybe when Otabek would come over to meet his grandfather in Moscow one day, Yuri would ask him to leave the leather jacket at home and opt for a prim cable knit sweater and khakis instead. He was sure his grandfather would actually be quite taken with Otabek because of his personality, once he got to know him.

 

Now that he had gotten the call out of the way, Yuri was ready to continue with his plans for the day, which included touring the city by motor bike with Otabek. He found Otabek in the living room, absentmindedly petting Tigr while reading his book, wearing all black. At times Yuri wondered if Otabek was aware of how ridiculously good-looking he was.

 

Otabek looked up.

 

“And? What did he say?” he asked, referring to the phone call.

 

“He said you look like hoodlum scum, he will kick your ass if you make me unhappy and we should use condoms.”

 

“We’ll buy some at the store today.”

 

“I swear to fucking god, Beka.”

 

 

\---

 

 

At the motor rental place, Otabek was happily engrossed by every vehicle on display, much like he would be with the assortment in a book- or record store. Yuri observed him fondly as he picked out their ride for the day, a sleek, black Honda cruiser. They had talked about this extensively. Yuri really wanted to learn how to ride a motor bike as well, so he could eventually get his license and they could go on trips together. Otabek had even promised to teach him beforehand, if they ever had the time. When planning this vacation, Yuri had hoped Otabek would show him a couple of things. The way it had turned out this week, Otabek had shown him plenty, but none of it had to do with motor bikes.

 

Rushing through the streets of Saint Petersburg, along the banks of the rivers and over the bridges, was indescribable. Yuri had dreamed of this many times, thought about it since their first meeting. His chest pressed against Otabek’s broad back, fingers clutching onto black leather as the air whipped coolly around them. The scent of gasoline, fumes, leather and cinnamon as he rested his cheek against the nape of Otabek’s neck. They went crisscross through the city, finding longer stretches of road to speed along. Otabek occasionally stopped to take pictures of cathedrals and palaces, saying he was intrigued by their colours. The sparkling blues and greens and creamy yellows made the buildings like fairy-tale dwellings, their curling ornaments conveying the decadence of their regal past. As Otabek tried to snap picturesque shots, Yuri would sneak up to him, nibble his earlobe and slide his hands in Otabek’s back pockets. To hell with public decency, if Otabek’s ass looked that good in jeans, Yuri thought. To his delight, Otabek would squirm and wriggle, a low rumble erupting from his throat. On the last of Yuri’s attempts, Otabek flipped the camera on his phone so instead of taking a photo of the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood, he took one of Yuri licking a spot behind his ear.

 

“I’m getting that one framed,” Otabek said smugly.

 

Following the rivers, they drove down to the harbour. They bought blinis off a food truck and ate them on the warm concrete of the dock, watching the boats slowly go by.

 

“I’ve always wanted to ask you something,” Yuri started, half-way through his blini.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s about the day you picked me up on that motor bike in Barcelona. How much of it was planned in advance and how much was coincidental?” Yuri asked with a raised brow and a grin.

 

Otabek laughed. “It was a bit of both. I mean, I knew you were going to be at the hotel. Then I saw you in the lobby and you called me an asshole. I figured that wouldn’t be an ideal time to mention I’d like to be your friend. So I thought I would wait until the next day, catch you some time after morning practice. But you kept on going with that look of determination on your face and I thought it would be hopeless to try even then.”

 

“You know now I like to go for a ride to take my mind off of things, so that’s what I wanted to do. When I rented the motor bike and the guy there offered me an extra helmet, something told me I should take it. Call it intuition.”

 

Otabek smiled and continued. “After I drove around for a bit I checked Instagram, which I rarely do, but I was hoping you would have posted something. And then you had made this message saying you were going to head out to explore the area. So I drove back, hoping to run into you. Of course then I spotted you running away from that pack of Angels and I kind of couldn’t believe my luck.”

 

Otabek paused to eat the final bite of his blini and wipe his mouth with a paper napkin.

 

“By the way, taking you to park Güell and all the things I said to you there were hundred percent planned,” he ended on a final note.

 

Yuri let out a sound of disbelief. “You’re a sly, calculating bastard, Altin.”

 

“You’re one to talk, _Liquor Stash_.”

 

“I guess we are both kind of bad, huh?”

 

“It appears so.”

 

Yuri perked up. “Hey, I have an idea where we could go to. I have been thinking about getting this thing done and I might as well do it now. Would you come with me?”

 

Otabek’s trademark half-smile appeared as he put on his sunglasses. “You know I would go anywhere with you, baby.”

 

“Fuck you, Beka.”

 

“Later, sweetheart.”

 

 

\--- 

 

 

Yuri gave Otabek directions, shouting over the roar of the engine, and within twenty minutes they stood in front of a tattoo and piercing parlour. It was quite small with a curly black and white font covering the window. The old fashioned bell at the store front clamoured when Yuri ushered Otabek inside.

 

“Hey, Kati,” Yuri called out.

 

Behind the counter, a heavily tattooed and pierced woman with green hair who was about in her mid-thirties looked up from sketching pin-ups in a notebook.

 

“Oh, Yuri!”

 

Her eyes then rested on Otabek who was regarding the shop with interest.

 

“Well, hello,” she said, amusement lacing her voice.

 

Yuri stepped towards the counter. “Are you busy, Kati?”

 

“No, it’s been quiet this morning. I have a client coming in about an hour or so, but I have some time. What can I do for you?”

 

Yuri tucked his hair back. “I want to get my ears pierced.”

 

“Oh good,” Kati said, visibly relieved, “I was afraid you were back for the nipple piercings already. You have to wait for those until next year like I told you.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Yuri grinned, “I just want both my ears pierced for now. I want rows eventually.”

 

“That can easily be arranged.”

 

Kati put away her sketchbook and turned to Otabek.

 

“What about this handsome fellow here? Can I do something for you too?”

 

“This is Otabek,” Yuri said on cue.

 

One corner of Kati’s dark purple lip turned up. “I know who he is. I follow ice skating, like I told you. Plus I have you on Instagram.”

 

Yuri flushed. “Oh, I forgot.”

 

Another reminder of that damn Instagram post. Yuri had decided to leave the picture there, despite not having replied to any of the comments and texts he had received on the matter, being vaguely proud of his bold moment. However, he tended to forget for the past two days that he and Otabek didn’t exist in their own little bubble. Otabek looked a bit flustered but quickly regained his usual composure.

 

“I would like my ears pierced too, please,” he said to Yuri’s surprise.

 

“Sure thing,” Kati chuckled, “Tell you what, I’ll give you a set discount. I usually give a coupon when someone wants multiples, but I also give them to couples.”

 

“Jesus, Kati,” Yuri stammered.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re embarrassed, I get it. Go sit in the chair. I’ll get everything set up.”

 

Half an hour later they stepped out of the shop again, both with tiny silver earrings through their lobes.

 

Yuri was grinning like a fool. “Shit, Beka, you didn’t have to follow suit, you know.”

 

“I know,” Otabek replied, “But I had been thinking about it myself too. Looks pretty cool, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuri admitted and added huskily, “You look fucking hot.”

 

He leaned in and gave Otabek a peck on the cheek.

 

Otabek looked incredibly pleased. “On that note, before we head back, we need to take care of something.”

 

He took Yuri’s hand and made his way to the motor bike, but when Yuri wanted to ask what he was referring to Otabek actually walked on to cross the street. Yuri realised then he was heading towards a pharmacy.

 

Yuri was momentarily confused. “What are you going to get?”

 

“Condoms,” Otabek replied bluntly.

 

Yuri flinched. “What did you say?”

 

Otabek halted.

 

He looked nervously at Yuri, puzzled. “This morning, I mentioned it and I thought that was your way of agreeing. You don’t seem to have any and I thought it would be presumptuous of me to bring them on this trip. Did I misunderstand? Should I not get them?”

 

 Yuri blinked. “No, you didn’t misunderstand,” Yuri managed to say, though it sounded like a squeal, “But do you really want to march in there, _together_?

 

Otabek seemingly relaxed. “You have never bought them before.”

 

It wasn’t a question as much as a statement. Yuri shook his head.

 

“I didn’t exactly have an occasion where I would need them before,” he said, annoyed.

 

Otabek squeezed his hand in reassurance.

 

“Wait here.”

 

And then Otabek walked into the pharmacy, cool and collected. It was exactly the type of mentality and behaviour Yuri himself wanted to adopt. He was thankful Otabek would never make fun of him getting anxious over something like this. It was alright, he told himself. He was simply thrown off guard now and the next time Yuri would not be embarrassed and buy them himself.

Thinking back on it, buying the lube had been stressful enough. He had been out shopping by himself on his day off, when Lilia had texted him and asked him if he could pick up some eye drops for her. Yuri figured he also needed a couple of things, so he wandered into the nearest drug store. He haphazardly threw items into his basket like deodorant and face wash, before heading towards the isle where he would find eye drops. While scanning the assortment for Lilia’s preferred brand, his eyes went over a shelf placed on the lower right. It contained a small selection of lubricant.

 

He was fascinated. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed a bottle and stuffed it in his basket. After also finding the correct eye drops, he became self-conscious. He told himself he shouldn’t feel bothered by the shop girl’s stares (what if she was one of Yuri’s Angels?), but he threw in three types of chewy, sugary snacks, a bottle of water, bath salts and cherry lip balm for good measure. He paid for the whole thing in cash, avoiding eye contact, with his hood pulled up. As soon as the girl handed him his bag, he yelled a quick ‘keep the change’ and sprinted out of there. At home, he thought he would have a heart attack. He had left the bag unattended for a moment and then found Lilia digging through it, scowling. He was close to yanking it out of her hands, but then Lilia found her eye drops and handed the bag over. Lilia apparently hadn’t seen the lube. Instead she scolded him extensively for buying the sugary snacks. His hands felt strangely clammy touching the plastic of the bag and he darted off to his room to hide the bottle far back in his night stand.

 

In the following months, when he was sure Lilia had gone to sleep, he used the lube in growing frequency. Yuri fingered himself until he came, sometimes looking at himself in the mirror, wearing his pretty little robe, all the while imagining Otabek inside of him. Now the main star of the movie in his mind stepped outside of the pharmacy again, holding a plain bag.

 

“I bought extra lube as well,” Otabek whispered, after he had approached him and put a hand on the small of his back.

 

Yuri shivered in anticipation.

 

 

\---

 

 

For the past few days, whenever Yuri would walk from one room in the apartment to another, he had the chance of finding Otabek there, doing something, just existing in the same space. He had caught him reading mostly or listening to music, carrying out each task with his full attention until he spotted Yuri. He had also caught Otabek during mundane stuff like brushing his teeth or drinking a glass of water or playing with Yuri’s cat. That evening, when he came back from his shower, he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Otabek waiting shirtless on his bed. But he still was, the thrill of seeing this man around his house getting to him every time.

 

Otabek had turned on the small light on his night stand and next to it Yuri spotted the bottle of lube and the condoms Otabek had bought. All Otabek was wearing was pair of boxers which showed his bare, tan legs stretched out with crossed ankles on the carpet. He had spread his palms on the soft bedding on either side of him and was leaning back looking up at Yuri. Otabek gave him a small, quiet smile as if to excuse himself for being so forward.

 

Yuri experienced the feeling of being anxious but also trying to find a centre of calm amidst all these nerves. This was something he had wanted for a long time. From what he had told him, Otabek even had desired this for much longer. Yuri wasn’t afraid it would hurt. He was convinced he could take the discomfort, which would guide him to pleasure eventually. He had practiced. He mostly worried he would be disappointing to Otabek. Technically all he had to do was lie there, but still. Up until this point he had let his passions rule, not allowing himself to think about the fact that this was all new territory to him. He had acted on instinct and incorporated what he had seen online on his laptop late at night, gauging Otabek’s reactions which had been overwhelmingly enthusiastic. Otabek didn’t talk about it, but Yuri knew he had been with other guys. It was something he had just felt at certain points in their friendship, but never dared to ask about. Looking back, Yuri realised he had been afraid of what Otabek would have said, afraid of what it might have done to him. Yuri hadn’t wanted to know about that stuff, telling himself he would feel jealous of the fact that his friend was more experienced in that area than he was. In reality Yuri had to admit to himself that he would have rather felt pained that these experiences Otabek had were not with Yuri himself. Of course now that all didn’t matter anymore. Not now Otabek was looking at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered. Yuri remembered what he had done to himself in the shower just a moment ago. How badly he wanted to be ready to give Otabek pleasure. As he stepped forward, the towel he was wearing around his hips nearly slid off. He saw Otabek bite his bottom lip. Yuri’s nerves slowly dissipated at that. He knew Otabek would do everything to make this experience good and pleasurable for Yuri.

 

He walked up to Otabek and dropped the towel to the floor, revealing his naked form. Carefully, Otabek placed his hands on Yuri’s hips and pulled him closer. He placed soft kisses around his navel, his fingers sliding along Yuri’s slender, muscular thighs. Yuri felt himself stir. He ran his hands through Otabek’s dark brown locks, the short undercut silky to the touch. He briefly caressed one of the little silver studs in his ear and Otabek looked up.

 

“I know you have told me this before, Yura,” he said in a low raspy voice, “But I need you to say it again. Say it again so I can hear you want me.”

 

“Yes, Beka,” Yuri murmured, pleading, “I want you to fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will stop here, sweethearts. Instead of rushing through the end I want to give you a beautiful experience, just like Otabek wants to give Yuri. Next time we will immediately continue from this point, I promise. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Babes I have no idea how drug stores in Saint Petersburg work. Where I’m from you can literally find lube next to the eye drops. 
> 
> Also, Kati is the first OC of mine you get to meet in person! I had fun thinking her up. 
> 
> Bonus little head canon:  
> Yuri spotted Kati (short for Katharina) while he was out thrift shopping. He thought she looked awesome and was especially taken by the cat themed tattoo covering her left forearm. He complimented her on it and she recognised him from figure skating. They started talking and Kati presented him with her business card. She runs the tattoo and piercing parlour together with her equally heavily tattooed and pierced husband. Said husband has a bushy beard and they enjoy swing dancing together.
> 
> I will see you again very soon. <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for taking so long! Real life kind of got in the way of writing.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your patience.
> 
> Let's proceed, shall we?

Despite all the filthy thoughts Otabek had entertained of Yuri, he was truly a romantic at heart. He found that when Yuri had posted pictures of himself doing the things Yuri would usually do, like scowl while at the rink or look cute in something with a leopard print, Otabek had developed this silly habit of listening to love songs on repeat. He would read books, but get lost in thought stumbling across a pretty passage, wishing to whisper it to Yuri lying in his arms. He would go over a poem and relate it to Yuri in some way, words evoking images from a realm of dreams. Yuri in a field of flowers carrying the same scent as his hair. Sunlight scattering across his marble skin, or moonlight bathing him in a pale blue glow. Yuri as Amor, son of the goddess Venus, a golden haired, winged god. Himself as Psyche, visited by Amor in the dead night, making love to each other in the dark until daybreak. Psyche was never supposed to see the face of the immortal being giving her pleasure and Amor was gone by dawn. Yet his own Amor had transcended the dream world and stood right in front of him, his presence radiant even in the dim light of the room. 

Otabek pressed his face to Yuri’s stomach again, the force of the need in Yuri’s voice overpowering him. To hear his own desire resonated, which had been present for weeks, months, perhaps even years without Otabek ever wanting to acknowledge it, filled him with reverence. He wondered what great good he had accomplished to ever deserve such happiness. Yuri kissed the top of his head to pull him out of his reverie. He slowly lifted his gaze to the face of his love and saw that bold look that had him hooked since so many years ago.

Yuri moved closer, gently pushed him back. He then placed his knees on either side of Otabek’s hips, climbed into his lap to straddle him. For a moment they just stared at each other. Otabek lowered his eyes to the dark purple bruise Yuri still had on his collarbone from the night before. He traced it with his fingertips, making the blond shiver. 

“You’ve marked me up real nice, Beka,” came Yuri’s low voice. 

Yuri softly nudged the tip of his nose against his own, his breath ghosting over Otabek’s mouth as he spoke again. 

“Claim me even more.” 

How could Otabek refuse such an invitation to unbridle his passion? With a sigh he crashed his mouth unto Yuri’s. Yuri let out a hum of contentment and threw his arms over Otabek’s shoulders. There was instantly something desperate in the pace of their kissing, tongues twirling, teeth clicking. Otabek raked his nails over Yuri’s shoulder blades, his back, his sides. It gave him a strange satisfaction to know that Yuri’s marble skin would have angry red welts running along its smooth surface, like tiger’s stripes, carved by his doing. Marking him seemed to spur Yuri on as he started rocking back and forth, half-hard against Otabek’s groin. Otabek let his hands trail further down and firmly gripped Yuri’s plump ass, to which the blond gave a delectable little whimper. He stopped kissing Otabek and instead let his mouth wander to a spot on his neck, started sucking and biting. Otabek tilted his head to let Yuri do as he pleased, while tightening the hold on his ass to press Yuri’s groin closer to his own. He angled his hips upwards to let himself collide against Yuri and started pushing back in a deep, slow grind. 

Yuri moaned while latched onto his neck and let his fingers tangle in Otabek’s dark brown hair. Otabek found that Yuri’s moans drove him crazy, shot straight to his hardened cock straining his underwear. When Yuri finally let go of his neck, seemingly pleased with the bruise he had left, the blond shifted in his lap to reveal a dark, wet spot staining Otabek’s boxers. Yuri himself was also leaking, his lovely cock pink and flushed. He started pawing at the waistband of Otabek’s underwear and stuck out his lower lip in that pout Otabek adored.

“Are you going to fuck me now?”

Then he locked eyes with him and added huskily: “I fingered myself for you in the shower.”

How Yuri managed to pull the whole thing off seeming coy and slutty at the same time was beyond him. It was enough to flip the switch inside Otabek that make him want to completely dominate Yuri, make him beg and scream out his name. He snatched Yuri’s wrists away from his waistband.

“Yuratchka,” he teased, “You want my cock inside you that badly?”

Before Yuri could answer, he had shoved him hard to the side to fall against the mattress. Yuri sputtered as Otabek dragged him up to the headboard, but let his head fall back against a pillow, a grin plastered on his face. 

Otabek raised himself up to his knees and pulled his boxers down, smug about the fact that this seemed to wipe that grin off of Yuri. He had always felt shy about his size. Throughout puberty it became quite clear that Otabek was very well endowed. Stares in locker rooms and spontaneous erections that were nearly impossible to cover up had made him very self-conscious and caused embarrassment. The guys he had been with, however, looked as though they had won the lottery and Yuri was no different. Now, Otabek was just extremely turned on to be looked at with such desire by the object of his affection. 

He peeled off his underwear and proceeded to stroke himself in front of Yuri with half-lidded eyes, as if to put on a little show. Yuri gaped at him, biting his lip piercing and ran his hands along Otabek’s thighs. The knowledge that the blond had prepared himself for Otabek was incredibly arousing, but Otabek wanted to make sure Yuri had readied himself enough. He stopped stroking his cock to reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. Yuri visibly tensed up. Otabek gave him a small smile and caressed his neck, his chest. 

“I want you to spread your thighs wide, Yura,” he told him, “And keep breathing deeply.”

They adjusted their position so that Otabek was on his knees between Yuri’s legs. Otabek took a pillow and murmured for Yuri to lift his hips so he could slide it under his lower back and ass. He kept caressing Yuri’s chest, pressing softly into it to confirm if Yuri was indeed taking deep breaths. Then he took up the lube, flipped the cap open and coated two of his fingers, rubbing them together. Otabek let one hand rest on Yuri’s pelvis to keep his hips steady as he guided his hand towards the underside of Yuri’s balls. He hadn’t directly touched Yuri’s cock for this entire time, planning on dragging the experience out as much as possible. Perhaps it was rather cruel, but Otabek liked it that way. 

He let his fingers circle the rim of Yuri’s hole, his eyes roaming over the blond’s body and face. Yuri’s flushed cock pearled beads of cum at the tip that dripped onto his skin, just next to where Otabek’s hand was keeping him still. Yuri’s abs were tense with anticipation, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest told Otabek he was trying to relax his muscles as well as he could. His green eyes were clouded and he kept biting his bottom lip, his arms thrown up, hands clutching the pillow his head rested on. It was such a gorgeous vision, Otabek would have gladly given Yuri everything he had ever possessed, though he knew the only thing Yuri wanted at the moment was for Otabek to bury himself deep inside of him. 

He pushed a finger into Yuri. The blond closed his eyes, but otherwise kept his breath steady. Otabek noticed he could pump his finger with ease, so without hesitation he thrusted in a second digit. At this, Yuri’s eyes flew open again and he gasped. Otabek smirked and twisted his fingers slowly in and out, pressing in deeper each time. With a thrill he thought Yuri had worked himself open really well. He pulled out his fingers and spread the remainder of the lube across Yuri’s hole. 

Otabek took a foil wrapper from the nightstand and carefully ripped it open. Yuri didn’t say a word, just watched him with baited breath. He slid the condom over his cock, hoping he wouldn’t fumble getting it to stay put. After he had secured it, his cheeks a little red from being observed so intently by Yuri, he added a small dab of lube to his shaft to slick himself up. Finally, Otabek lowered himself between Yuri’s thighs, which slightly trembled. He stroked Yuri’s side reassuringly. 

“I’ll go slow, okay Yura? Tell me if it’s too much.”

For all Otabek’s tenderness, Yuri looked a bit annoyed somehow. He even narrowed his eyes, making him look superbly bratty as he huffed: “Just fuck me already.”

Despite his good intentions, Otabek felt a shot of both aggravation and arousal course through him, which made him crease his brows. A smirk returned to his lips and instead of being gentle, he thrust himself half-way into Yuri harshly. 

As expected, the blond cried out loudly. Otabek merely chuckled.

“Jesus, FUCK – Aaah!” Yuri panted, “Are you fucking laughing?”

Otabek pressed his forehead against Yuri’s temple and murmured amusedly. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, kitten.” 

“Wha- kit- nnn!” 

Yuri’s mumbling was cut off by Otabek, now slowly and steadily pushing his cock further inside him. A low grunt escaped Otabek’s lips as he felt himself be enveloped in an impossibly delicious tight heat. Yuri had screwed his eyes shut, his breath rapidly increasing. Otabek reached out to caress his cheek and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his mouth. He softly kept nipping at Yuri’s lips until the blond returned the kiss, his body relaxing, melting underneath him. 

He pushed the last few inches in as he kept peppering Yuri with kisses. When he was fully inside, he locked eyes with Yuri, who was looking up at him with wide-blown pupils. 

“Are you okay?” Otabek whispered, forcing himself to keep his hips still, “How does it feel?”

“Full – fuck,” Yuri’s voice trembled, “Shit – you’re really – fucking big, Beka.”

Otabek swiped blond strands of hair away from Yuri’s face. Just being sheathed inside of Yuri felt amazing, better even than he had imagined. 

“I’ll move whenever you’re ready, kitten,” he rasped. 

But Yuri had snaked his shaking hands along his waist, placing them on his ass. His fingers dug into Otabek’s flesh to rock him forward. Otabek had never heard Yuri sound so needy and wanting. 

“I’m ready,” he pleaded, “Please, I want you so much.”

Otabek thought he would choke. Just like before, all barriers of reserve within him broke away, releasing something animalistic in him, making him ready to consume Yuri.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked Yuri hotly, “How fucking badly you make me want to take you apart?”

Yuri’s breath hitched as Otabek then started moving, rolling his hips shallowly in small thrusts. Yuri’s hands squeezed his ass tighter and the blond let his head fall further back into the pillow. Otabek groaned and buried his face in the crook of Yuri’s neck, drank in that flowery scent of his hair that made him weak. He focused on feeling Yuri, fucking him just right for it to become good rather than painful. After a while Yuri started mewling and Otabek knew he could speed up his pace. He raised himself up, wanting to look at Yuri’s face. Then he grasped Yuri’s hips to position them just so to allow him to go deeper in a steady tempo. This enabled him to fully stimulate that spot within Yuri which would increase his pleasure and soon Yuri’s moans became long and drawn out. 

“Fuck – that’s good, Beka,” he whimpered, “That’s so fucking good – oh god.”

Otabek growled in response, kept pumping his hips while looking at the angelic and wanton form underneath him. 

“You’re so beautiful, Yura,” he groaned, “So pretty with my cock inside of you.” 

Yuri cried out, his mouth parted and gasping. Apparently the feeling of Otabek moving inside of him became so intense at this point that one of Yuri’s hands reached in between his thighs, trying to jerk his straining cock. Otabek however, was having none of that. He briefly stopped his ministrations to catch Yuri’s wrists and firmly pinned them at Yuri’s sides with his broad hands. 

“No, not yet,” he said and added darkly, “You are not touching yourself unless I say so, kitten.” 

Yuri sputtered in frustration. “What – you fucking bastard, aaaah!”

His impending tirade was cut short by Otabek fucking him again, harder and at an excessively fervent pace. All accusations seemed to be forgotten as Yuri lifted his legs to wrap them around Otabek’s waist, his ankles crossed, heels digging into Otabek’s ass. 

“Yes, oh, yes!” the blond cried out in ecstasy, “Fuck me hard, Beka – oh god, fuck me harder!”

Yuri’s yells reverberated of the walls. Hearing his name made Otabek drunk on power. Seeing Yuri panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat, made him high from being able to give so much pleasure to this perfect creature writhing underneath him. His cock felt so good inside of Yuri, setting every inch of his body alight, making a fire build in the pit of his stomach. Somehow he felt overwrought with emotion. 

“I love you, Yura,” he managed to say in between his thrusts, the sound hoarse and strangled, “You – feel so fucking perfect.”

“Hmm – I love you too,” Yuri mewled, his eyes hazy with lust. 

Otabek lowered himself, swooped in to kiss Yuri hard. He let his slick tongue slide into Yuri’s hot mouth, deepening the kiss. Yuri reciprocated ardently, but soon pulled himself away. 

“I’m close, I – want to cum,” the blond begged. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Otabek panted, “I’m almost there. Touch yourself, Yura.”

Yuri’s hand shot out from his grip and reached in between their bodies. He tugged at himself furiously through gritted teeth. Otabek’s pace was now brutal and he felt Yuri’s walls clench around him, the heat in his stomach dangerously close from spilling over. Then Yuri let out a high-pitched moan. His body stiffened and proceeded to spasm as Yuri’s cock pulsed hot seed unto his hand and Otabek’s pelvis. Otabek closed his eyes and pounded roughly into Yuri’s twitching hole. He arched his back and came deep inside of him with a final guttural cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope this satisfied you, my dears.  
> Again, I urge you to please let me know if this was to your liking.
> 
> I know the nickname 'kitten' for Yuri has become something generally accepted within the fandom and I desperately wanted to include the first time Yuri was being called that by Otabek. I hope you liked that as well. 
> 
> Next time, we join our loves at the rink as they return for practice. And they still have that dinner invitation standing with Yuuri and Victor, so let's see how that turns out...
> 
> Until then. <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it has been quite the month, hasn't it?
> 
> The announcement of the YOI movie has left me shaken and I'm still not over that "Welcome to the Madness" preview.
> 
> In any case, I'm back with more Otayuri for you to enjoy. 
> 
> Settle in, because this is going to be a long one. Also, please check the tags.

“Good morning, kitten.”

 

Yuri opened his eyes to see Otabek looking at him, one hand propped up on the mattress to support his chin. The morning light was already steadily growing brighter behind the closed curtains, but Yuri hadn’t heard the sound of his alarm yet. He blinked sleepily as Otabek’s words sank in.

 

“What the hell, Beka?”

 

He shifted and became aware of a dull discomfort lingering in his body and the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. After their tryst of last night, Otabek had gently cleaned him, taken him in his arms and murmured the most disgusting and wonderfully romantic things in a hushed voice. Yuri had let himself get lost in those whispered words of praise and promises of love. He had even professed some things of his own he never had imagined to say to another person. Things like “I need you” and  “Please stay with me” and “You were so gorgeous ramming into me.” Otabek, however, hadn’t used that particular pet name since the moment they had had sex and Yuri figured it would be terribly out of character not to offer at least some form of resistance.

 

“I’m not a kitten, I’m a fucking ice tiger.”

 

He drew himself closer to Otabek’s bare chest and softly started biting his pecks. Yuri felt a low rumble of laughter beneath the warm skin.

 

“Really? You are a kitten to me, purring so prettily underneath me.”

 

That comment earned Otabek a harsher bite and he yelped when Yuri sank his teeth into him.

 

“Shut up,” Yuri growled in between nips.

 

Otabek cradled Yuri’s head and made him look up.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

Yuri considered his answer. “Alright, I guess.”

 

At this Otabek gave him a small, relieved smile. He then slid his hands down Yuri’s neck and proceeded to roam his body with them. Yuri relished in the feeling of Otabek’s fingers tracing his skin and he hummed and leaned into his touch. Otabek moved closer and started kissing the top of his head. Yuri could hear him breathe into his hair and suddenly his caresses became more forceful. Otabek’s hands found their way from his side to his hips and then his ass, where he gave Yuri a generous squeeze.

 

“Now you’re just groping me.”

 

“Hmm –,” came the gravelly response, “You smell so good.”

 

Otabek hooked his leg behind Yuri’s to draw his body fully in. It was then that he noticed the massive hard-on Otabek had, pressing into his lower stomach. Yuri softly cursed and resumed his gentle biting while his hands flew out to Otabek’s thighs. With a chuckle, Otabek started to rotate his hips and lazily rut against Yuri’s stomach. Just then, as Yuri’s blood rushed to his nether regions, his alarm went off.

 

Yuri cursed again, quite loudly this time. With a disgruntled sigh, he threw his arm out to snatch his phone from the nightstand, only to knock the lamp over in the process. Reluctantly, Otabek gave Yuri a bit more space and the blond scrambled around to silence his alarm. He turned to Otabek again. ~~~~

“You think it would be a valid reason for me to skip practice because I got fucked too hard?”

 

“Call Yakov and ask him,” Otabek suggested.

 

Then he traced a finger along Yuri’s jaw and grinned. “If I continue doing that, it’s a good way to get you out of the competition.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes and then quite impulsively smacked him on the ass.

 

Otabek winced. “I probably deserved that.”

 

“Yes, you did,” the blond huffed, “Besides, Yakov would probably kill you, so don’t even think about fucking me out of the game. And calm down. Your dick is distracting me and we need to get to practice.”

 

Otabek clambered over Yuri in an attempt to leave the bed, but just as he was on top of him he purred in a silky voice: “If you want me to calm down you really shouldn’t spank me, Yura.”

 

He then promptly hopped off the bed, grabbed his underwear from the floor and walked out of the bedroom,  throwing one final smirk at Yuri over his shoulder.

 

 _Who really gives a fuck about figure skating anyway?_ Yuri thought as he kept his eyes glued to Otabek’s perfectly sculpted backside.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

“Yura, do you expect me to go to the rink like this?” he heard Otabek call out to him from the bathroom.

 

Yuri frowned, walked across the hallway and stuck his head in the door opening. Otabek was peering at himself in the mirror, clad in only his boxers and looking rather horror-stricken. There was a large hickey on his neck, placed right in the middle below his jawline. His eyes shot accusingly to Yuri.

 

“Oops,” Yuri mumbled.

 

“Why didn’t you aim a little lower?” Otabek asked, slightly exasperated.

 

“You weren’t exactly protesting last night.”

 

“Yura, you could have done anything to me last night. You could have had me chained to your bed and I wouldn’t have protested.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Yuri stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “That’s actually a good suggestion.”

 

Otabek apparently decided to ignore this comment and cocked an eyebrow. “What should I do about this?”

 

“You could wear a scarf,” Yuri offered.

 

“In July?”

 

“A turtleneck?”

 

“It’s _July_. I haven’t brought one.”

 

Yuri shrugged. “You could borrow one of mine.”

 

“You’re taller, but your shirts are like two sizes smaller than mine.”

 

“That could look good, you know.”

 

Otabek caved. “Give me one to try on.”

 

Yuri returned with one of his black, short sleeved turtleneck shirts, the kind he had worn to train in for years. Otabek managed to squeeze himself in but it was futile. The material spanned tightly across his chest, showing off every ripple of his well tones muscles. It also left a big strip of skin exposed above his bellybutton, revealing a good part of his chiseled abs. The hickey was left uncovered,  blooming vividly over the edge of the collar. All in all, it looked like Otabek was wearing a crop top, and a rather obscene one at that. Yuri was in stitches.

 

“I am glad you find this amusing,” Otabek shot at him, without any real malice, “But you do realise everyone at the rink is going to notice.”

 

“So?” Yuri snorted, “Mila pretty much expects it, Yakov has probably seen worse from Victor. And we won’t see Victor and Katsudon until this evening at dinner, since it’s their day off from practice.”

 

The Japanese skater had texted him the previous afternoon to ask if he could still expect both Yuri and Otabek to come over for dinner. Yuri had been grumpy about the fact they had accepted the invitation and initially wanted to cancel. Otabek, however, insisted that they should attend, reminding Yuri that it would be impolite to cancel last minute. Damn that guy and his good manners, Yuri thought.

 

“You know, for the past two years I have put up with _a lot_ of PDA from them. Don’t even get me started on how Victor teased me when I became friends with you. Let’s see how they like it when I throw it back in their faces.”

 

Otabek frowned and his features slipped into his usual scowl. It looked more hilarious than anything, considering the fact he was still wearing a damn crop top and Yuri had trouble keeping a straight face.

 

Otabek’s tone became solemn.

 

“I’m just concerned. I don’t want people to think –,” he paused as though looking for the right words, before adding, “that I’m just fooling around with you.”

 

Yuri grinned. “But you _are_ fooling around with me.”

 

Otabek clasped Yuri’s hands. “I’m serious about you, Yura. I don’t want people to misunderstand.”

 

Yuri found himself rather touched. He hadn’t considered Otabek would worry about something like that. He suspected it stemmed from this guilt Otabek had confessed to feel at various points in their friendship. During breakfast yesterday the man had suddenly told him about this. That Otabek had felt awful about hiding his feelings for a good part of their friendship. That Otabek worried sometimes about people thinking he was taking advantage of Yuri in some way. Yuri had tried to understand where all this guilt was coming from. He figured it was because Otabek was slightly older and had realised he was in love with Yuri for a long time before those feelings were reciprocated. Yuri wanted to take that worry away, wanted to make clear he was just as committed to Otabek as the man was to Yuri and that the whole world was allowed to know.  

 

He cupped Otabek’s face in his hands. “With that mug of yours, who will ever think you aren’t serious?”  

 

Otabek gave him a blank stare.

 

“Don’t worry, Beka. If anyone ever dares to give either of us shit about dating each other, I will personally punch them in the face.” Yuri reassured him, before adding brightly, “I’ll throw my knife shoes at them.”

 

 

\---

 

 

“Well, look who’ve decided to come up for air!” Mila exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as Yuri and Otabek walked into the canteen of the rink a little before eight.

 

Despite their dawdling, they had made it on time as per Yakov’s request. Yuri threw his sports bag on the table and to hide his own grin he gave Mila a sour look instead. The redhead just kept smiling at them.

 

“I’m glad to see the both of you are still alive,” she continued, “Things have been hectic around here.”

 

Yuri frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, I think Yakov will explain in a moment.”

 

She turned to look at Otabek but her eyes became transfixed on a spot on the man’s neck.

 

“Wow, Otabek, Yuri sure did a number on you,” Mila laughed, “I am kind of proud.”

 

Otabek blushed a deep crimson. After the crop top fiasco, they had decided to just forego a turtleneck or any other way to try and conceal the massive love bite. Yuri had mockingly suggested sticking a Band-Aid on it as last a resort, but Otabek thought that looked “totally not cool, man”. If people were to bring the mark up, they had decided to just confront the issue head on, without trying to deny anything. So Otabek had put on a regular T-shirt with a deep sigh. Yuri thought it looked pretty badass, but of course, that still didn’t mean Otabek felt less embarrassed.

 

Meanwhile, Yakov had entered the canteen and made a straight line towards them with great determination.

 

“Good, you’re here,” he offered by means of greeting.

 

As he regarded the both of them, his eyes too fell on the spot beneath Otabek’s jawline.

 

“What the hell happened to you, Altin?” Yakov grumbled.

 

Otabek kept his face perfectly composed. “I would rather not explain, sir.”

 

Yakov narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “For goodness sake.”

 

Mila sympathetically patted his arm. “Are you getting a migraine again?”

 

Yakov cast his eyes to the ceiling before he went off on a tangent. “Let’s get this out of the way immediately, Yuri. Needless to say, that little stunt you pulled with that picture of you and Altin has caused quite the stir. Since I am your contact person, I have been getting calls and messages from various people. Press agents, Yuri’s Angels, bloggers and vloggers and people on the tumblers. I had _Teen Vogue_ on the line, for crying out loud. They tried to contact Lilia on Tenerife as well.”

 

He sighed. “I have let you remain on cloud nine for the past two days, but something has to be done. Lilia has told me you are in a relationship now and you show up here with Altin looking unabashedly mauled. I take it you both are serious about each other?”

 

“Of course!” Yuri answered instantly.

 

“Then I suggest you take responsibility and _say something_ , anything, to the public, so I can get a moment’s peace and not be bothered with having to verify if my teenage prodigy has a damn boyfriend every waking hour of my day,” Yakov spat. 

 

“Wait,” Yuri sputtered, “Are you saying I should do an interview or something?”

 

“No, that won’t be necessary for now,” Yakov said and folded his arms, “But you have the Instagrams where you opened this whole hell pit, don’t you? Post another picture. Figure it out. That goes for you too, Altin.”

 

Yakov seemed finished with his lecture and looked around the canteen. “I’m getting a cappuccino and an Advil and I want you both on the ice in fifteen minutes.”

 

His coach stalked off again, mightily disgruntled, leaving Yuri and Otabek looking sheepish.

 

Mila tapped her fingers on the Formica table and leaned back. “So what now, lover boys?”

 

Yuri turned to Otabek. “I guess we could post another picture, say that we’re official. That should keep them occupied long enough. What do you think?”

 

The blond had ignored his social media account for the past two days, which was unusual in itself but he had just been too caught up in spending time with Otabek. As much as Yuri hated to admit it, Yakov was right. They should openly come forward with their relationship, if only to stop everyone nagging them and his coach about it.

 

Otabek nodded and smiled. “That’s good. I would like that.”

 

Yuri pulled out his phone and Mila snorted. “You might want to reconsider taking a picture which shows that hickey, though.”

 

“What do you take me for?” the blond muttered, “I have an idea, but I need to have my hands free. You take the picture, Baba.”

 

He handed her his phone and went to stand beside Otabek. Then he reached for Otabek’s arm, held up his hand and interlaced their fingers.

 

“There,” he addressed Mila, but kept his eyes on Otabek and smiled, “Just get our hands in the shot.”

 

The redhead got up from her seat and squealed, pointing the camera at their clasped hands.

 

“You two are so cute, it’s killing me! This was totally worth the wait.”

 

If she had shifted the camera upwards, it would have shown how stupidly in love both boys were staring at each other, but she snapped a couple of shots with their faces out of the frame. Yuri took his phone back and selected the best picture, one which showed them holding hands, Yuri’s milky white one in Otabek’s tan bronze, the colours of their national team jackets blurred in the background.

 

Before they hit the ice, Yuri had posted the picture to his Instagram, tagging it #yuriplisetsky, #otabekaltin, #boyfriends, #<3.

 

The caption simply read: _I went for it._

 

 

\---

 

 

Yuri thought Otabek looked exceptionally good that evening. Of course, Otabek looked good in anything, even crop tops, like he had proved that morning. Now he had made an effort to dress quite smartly. He was donning dark grey jeans and a navy blue button down shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled up. He even put on that silver medallion necklace he had, hanging in the open V of his shirt. Though it was summer, evenings in Saint Petersburg were chilly, so Otabek was also wearing his signature black leather jacket. The whole look was finished off with combat boots, which gave Otabek that edge Yuri salivated over. In his mind the blond was already counting down the hours he would be able to take all those articles of clothing off again. He himself was wearing all black, except for his white leather jacket with heavily studded lapels and a hint of leopard print on his creepers. His hair was up in a high pony tail, pretty casual and fitting for an informal dinner at the old geezer and Katsudon.

 

After a gruelling practice, Yuri and Otabek had picked up groceries for the weekend and headed back home to clean the apartment and relax. Yuri had changed out of his comfy sweats for the dinner he reluctantly agreed to go to. One part of him wished to keep Otabek to himself for the rest of his stay, while another part thought it could perhaps be nice to show off his boyfriend to his friends, for lack of a better word.

 

As they walked up the stairs of the apartment building Victor and Yuuri lived at, the blond noticed Otabek was scowling more than usual.

 

“You look nervous,” Yuri teased him.

 

“Well, I want to make a good impression,” Otabek said while fidgeting with his collar, which did nothing to hide the hickey on his neck, “These people are practically your family.”

 

Yuri scoffed. “It’s not like you haven’t hung out with them and me before.”

 

“It’s different now,” Otabek pointed out and smirked, “Now I’m your boyfriend.” 

 

Yuri rang the doorbell and they were greeted by a smiley Katsudon in an apron.

 

“Hello Yurio, Otabek! Good to see you again.”

 

They took their shoes off in the hallway and were offered slippers. Yuri had come here often enough to have his own pair, drape his coat over a chair somewhere and steal a snack from the fridge, but today was indeed different. Yuuri was being a perfect host, probably to make Otabek feel welcome, the blond suspected.

 

The Japanese skater took their coats and put them away.

 

“The table is already set so you guys can take a seat. Victor went out with Makkachin, but he has texted me saying he would be back any minute now.”

 

Yuuri guided them towards the dining room in the modern, spacious apartment and told them to take any seat they would like at the table. Otabek looked unsure, so Yuri quietly pointed at a chair that was usually left unoccupied, except for when Makkachin got in his head he was a human and wanted to sit with them. Once they were seated, Yuuri asked them what they wanted to drink. It was then that the Japanese man saw. He was looking at Otabek who politely requested some tea, when Yuuri’s face fell. He remained silent, gaping with an open mouth before recovering and asking if Otabek drank it with sugar. After that the Japanese man promptly returned to the kitchen and Yuri had trouble stifling his laughter.

 

Otabek wasn’t amused, glared at him and kicked him under the table. It was then they heard commotion at the door and a curly haired brown poodle bound into the dining room to greet them with enthusiasm. After a moment, Victor emerged, all smiles.

 

“Hello! So glad you could make it,” he grinned.

 

Yuuri brought them a tray of drinks and Victor gave him a peck on the cheek. Blond Yuri winced.

 

“Have you ever had Katsudon before, Otabek?” Victor asked the Kazakh skater, by means to make conversation.

 

“No, I haven’t,” he replied while tugging inconspicuously at his collar again.

 

Frankly, it was a time bomb that could go off any moment Yuri figured and Victor indeed finally took notice of the large bruise on Otabek’s neck just when Yuuri had served them their meal. Victor and Yuuri hadn’t mentioned anything about the public announcement of their relationship on Instagram, but Yuri could tell they knew. Granted, Yuri had demanded of the Japanese skater he would make sure Victor behaved himself nicely and wouldn’t make any embarrassing comments about himself and Otabek. They were probably avoiding the topic to make the new couple feel at ease, but something as glaringly obvious as a big purple hickey couldn’t be ignored for long. Victor was looking at Otabek explaining something about the new routine for his short programme when the silver haired man suddenly gasped.

 

“Yurio!” he exclaimed in shock, “What did you do to him?”

 

Yuri braced himself and looked up from his pork cutlet bowl. “What? Like I need to explain that? To you, off all people?”

 

But Victor had no intention of letting the subject go so easily. Meanwhile, the Japanese skater looked downright uncomfortable someone had finally addressed what had made him stare incredulously at Otabek earlier. Poor Otabek just looked lost and kept his eyes on his pork cutlet bowl.

 

“Wow! He hasn’t even been here for a week and you do _that_ to him? I knew you two had finally gotten together, but dear me, you are not wasting any time!” Victor exclaimed, eyes the size of saucers.   

 

“Oh please, Victor! As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

 

Victor threw his hands up. “Look, Yurio, I know it’s not my place to scold you, but…”

 

“Right, it’s not your place at all!” Yuri cut him off, increasingly frustrated, “I know that you like to see me as this little kid, but don’t be a hypocrite! May I remind you that when you were seventeen, you also started dating and having sex and god knows what.”

 

For a moment the room was completely silent, before Victor erupted: “YOU ARE HAVING SEX?”

 

Beyond shocked, he looked at the Kazakh skater who was now hanging his head.

 

“OTABEK!”

 

Yuri immediately shot to his defence. “Don’t put the blame on him! He’s been holding back for over a year as it is!”

 

“Yura!” Otabek stammered, clearly panicked.

 

Yuuri tugged his fiancé on his arm in a gesture to calm him down.  

 

“Why are you so surprised?” the Japanese man hissed at Victor through gritted teeth.

 

Victor stared at the pair opposite from him at the table, Yuri looking at him defiantly and Otabek so miserable as though he would rather be anywhere but there.

 

The silver haired man clutched his forehead. “I need a drink.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you’re so dramatic.”

 

“Look who’s talking!” Victor shot back.

 

“Honestly, what’s it to you what I do?” the blond fired, before adding in a calmer voice, “Besides, I love him.”

 

At this everyone just silently stared at Yuri. A smile began to grow on Otabek’s face.

 

“I really love him,” Yuri repeated.

 

He reached out to Otabek’s hand, gave him a small squeeze and a smile. This was a statement to say the least. Public declarations of love were reserved only for his grandfather and his cat. It worked like a charm, because Victor was rendered speechless. Yuuri on the other hand, beamed. The blond had always thought the Japanese man to be the more sensible of the two.

 

“Well I think that’s wonderful,” Yuuri said softly, before completely changing the subject, “I really like your earrings by the way. Would you like another drink, Otabek?”

 

Otabek cleared his throat. “Yes, please.”  

 

And that settled the matter. Victor remained a little quiet, shooting suspicious looks at Otabek every once in a while. But by the time they were eating dessert, the atmosphere had relaxed and the conversation flowed normally. It had really been thanks to Yuuri acting so pleasant that the evening hadn’t completely derailed and the blond figured he should thank him for that later. About an hour after dessert Yuri excused himself and Otabek. The dark haired man elaborately thanked the engaged couple for dinner, but Yuri thought Victor still looked a bit strained when Otabek shook his hand. When they closed the door of the Katsuki-Nikiforov residence behind them, they looked at each other and burst out in a fit of giggles.  

 

“It could have gone a lot worse,” Yuri said cheerfully, as they were walking back home.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Otabek said, “You weren’t the one receiving a death glare.”

 

Yuri laughed. “At least you got to enjoy good food.”

 

“I did, but I’d rather have something else,” Otabek smirked.

 

The dark haired man’s smile became wolfish. “When we get home, we’re going to take a shower.”

 

He leaned in, his low voice just inches away from Yuri’s ear.

 

“And then I’m going to eat you out.”

 

 

\---

 

 

It started as soon as they set foot inside the apartment. Yuri was barely through the door when Otabek shoved him, so forcefully he knocked against the coat rack. Yuri turned around to scold him, only to be cut off by a searing kiss. Otabek grabbed him by the studded lapels of his white leather jacket and pushed him through the hallway, up against the wall. He relentlessly continued lapping at Yuri’s mouth and started to pull his jacket off. Instantly swept away by this whirlwind of touches, Yuri shook his shoulders, to let Otabek drop the jacket to the floor. Then Otabek’s hands flew up under Yuri’s shirt, started rubbing circles over his nipples. Yuri hissed when suddenly Otabek pinched them, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingertips. With his knee, he harshly nudged Yuri’s legs apart and the blond widened his stance. Otabek moved in closer and through the material of his jeans, Yuri felt the man’s cock pressing heavily into his thigh. He gasped against his mouth, which made Otabek let out this chuckle that just sent the blond reeling.

 

His brain had trouble catching up to the situation, his senses overloaded at the pure whim of someone manhandling him just for the fun of it. He was now tugging on Otabek’s jacket, gripping the black leather, and forcing it off with the same determination Otabek had exercised. Otabek’s hands momentarily left his chest to allow him to shrug the item of clothing off and it joined Yuri’s discarded jacket on the floor, a pool of black and white and silver studs.

 

Instead of continuing to tease Yuri’s nipples, Otabek grabbed hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over the blond’s head. Yuri wriggled his way out of it, resurfacing with flustered cheeks and a dishevelled pony tail. Otabek tossed the shirt aside and with a hunger in his eyes that made Yuri’s skin burn, he wrapped a hand around his golden hair to jerk his head to the side. Instead of immediately latching on to him, Otabek observed Yuri, chest heaving, jaw slightly clenched. Then at an agonizing pace, he proceeded to lick long strips up the column of Yuri’s neck. The hand that wasn’t buried in blond locks started unclasping Yuri’s belt and working on the button of his jeans. Yuri’s hands fumbled to mimic Otabek’s actions at the dark haired man’s waistband, his head still held in place by Otabek’s grip. The mere clink of his belt made the blond moan in anticipation, which earned him a sharp nip on a spot behind his ear.

 

Otabek tore himself away from Yuri’s panting form and slowly plucked at the buttons of his own collared shirt. Yuri’s eyes followed his hands, starting at the first button just below the silver medallion of his necklace and revealing more of his delicious tan skin the lower they went. When the final button was unfastened, it showed that trail of soft dark hair going from Otabek’s navel to his groin that made Yuri’s mouth water, made him want to spend hours with his head buried in that spot, just to breathe in that addicting scent it had. Otabek caught him looking, smirked in silent permission and the blond rushed forward to cover his chest with bites, kisses and licks. After Otabek had indulged him, he firmly pushed Yuri away.

 

“Shoes,” rang the singular command.

 

Yuri hastily bent over to unlace his leopard printed creepers and toed out of them. When he came up, Otabek still held him back by an arm’s length.

 

“I want you to wait for me in the shower,” Otabek murmured, before explaining, “I need to take my boots off.”

 

Yuri nodded in a daze and silently made his way down the corridor to the bathroom. There, he switched on the lights and peeled off his skinny jeans and socks. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, eyes blazing, lips red-bitten, his cock still hard. He waited, listening for Otabek to approach the bathroom. When he finally entered, Otabek was wearing nothing but his underwear too. Yuri wanted to launch himself at him again, but something in Otabek’s steely gaze made him stop in his tracks.

 

“I told you to wait _in the shower_.”

 

He was momentarily confused, until he noticed the sternness in Otabek’s posture and demeanour. Yuri then realized that Otabek was _commanding_ him.

 

“Oh.”

 

He walked over to the spacious shower stall, slid the large glass door open and turned on the water. Yuri looked over at Otabek, leaning against the sink with a sort of nonchalance, staring at him. Reluctantly, the blond took off his boxers, pulled the elastic out of his hair and stepped into the shower. He faced the opened pane of the stall and expected Otabek to join him, but to his surprise, the dark haired man simply slid the glass door shut and stood back.

 

Yuri was puzzled. “Aren’t you coming in here?”

 

Otabek folded his arms and tilted his head. “In a moment.”

 

With a quiet stir of excitement, Yuri got an inkling of what Otabek was trying to achieve here. The blond stepped underneath the warm spray of the water and ran a hand through his hair to untangle it.

 

Otabek approached the glass, his arms still folded. “Go ahead and wash yourself, Yura,” his voice rang, a little louder than usual in order to be heard over the rush of water, “Start with your hair. Let me see you.”

 

Yuri wiped the fog off the glass pane. It didn’t seem like Otabek had the intention of joining him any time soon. The man was usually so soft-spoken and compliant, though not a push-over, and Yuri loved that about him. But when he got like this, bossy, dominant, Yuri had trouble containing just how badly he wanted to get on his knees for him, do anything Otabek asked of him.

 

Yuri took his regular bottle of shampoo off the small tiled ledge and started to lather up. It felt weird. His full-on erection had subsided and he went through the motions of washing his hair, all the while Otabek just looked at him from behind the glass. The sensation of being watched while doing something so private was peculiar but enticing. Sure, he had bathed before with others at the onsen, but this was different. This was intimate.

 

Yuri rinsed the soapy suds out of his hair and looked expectantly at Otabek. He cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Wash your body.”

 

Still not joining him then. Yuri took a loofa sponge from a hook and poured on a copious amount of his favourite, almond scented shower gel. He slowly started to run the sponge over his body, following every movement with a deliberate caress of his other hand. If Otabek wanted to play games, Yuri sure as hell could play along. He traced his fingers from his collarbone to his nipple, rubbed it with his thumb. He lowered the sponge across his abs, pelvis and groin, where he could feel himself starting to swell again and gave Otabek a little smile. Yuri hoped this was all coming off as seductive as he was feeling and apparently it had the desired effect, because Otabek licked his lips.

 

“Remember what my plans were for you, Yura?” he spoke against the glass, “Clean yourself for me.”

 

Bastard.

 

Yuri reached the sponge behind him, together with his other hand and held on to Otabek’s smouldering gaze. This whole thing was absurd. Here he was, fingering himself clean in front of a guy he had been too afraid to tell he liked up until four days ago. He was letting himself being told what to do, circling his own rim, readying himself, while this former friend turned crush of his just stood there like some lecherous voyeur. It was stupid. Stupid and dirty and an absolute fucking turn on. His cock was now rapidly hardening and he saw Otabek took notice. That hint of amusement in his eye was pissing Yuri off and making him harder by the second.

 

Otabek let his gaze travel from Yuri’s  cock to his flustered face, his deep, dark eyes filled with a carnal longing that trapped Yuri like a spell.

 

“Now jerk off for me,” Otabek commanded,  “Slowly.”

 

At this point all embarrassment was being overridden by lust, as Yuri let the sponge fall to the tiled floor and wrapped a hand around his cock a tad too eagerly. He started pumping himself, tugging his foreskin with soft, gentle strokes. He had done this before with Otabek observing him, but the man had been underneath him and Yuri had been in control, seated on his shimmering skin. Now, the blond felt powerless, felt he had no choice but to comply, being watched from behind the cold glass. As he pleasured himself with half-lidded eyes, mouth slightly parted, the warm water cascading down his body, Otabek finally took another step closer towards the shower stall.

 

That deep rasp had returned to his voice as he asked: “Is this how you would do it when you were alone?”

 

“Yes,” Yuri managed to reply, the soft pumps he was lavishing on himself making currents of pleasure spread through his body.

 

Otabek smugly continued his questioning. “What would you think about, Yura?”

 

Yuri whimpered. “About you, asshole.”

 

“Try to be specific, _kitten_ ,” he said sternly.

 

And just by that infuriating pet name, Yuri put down his bratty front in defeat. 

 

“I’d think about you fucking me,” he said huskily, leaning in, his breath fogging up the glass.

 

Otabek smiled in utter contentment at the unsurprising confession. “How?”

 

“You’d jerk me off, on my bed,” Yuri continued, “Then you’d flip me over – ah. Finger my ass, fuck me on all fours. Hard.”

 

“What else?”

 

“You’d suck me off, in the shower.”

 

The blond bit his bottom lip, eyeing Otabek’s large cock pitched in his boxers. “You’d let me cum in your mouth – on your face.”

 

“I see,” Otabek chuckled and it was the last straw as far as Yuri was concerned, so he resulted to fucking begging for it. Again.

 

“Please, Beka. I need you,” he tried, pouting.

 

“Alright. Stop touching yourself.”

 

At that, Otabek finally uncrossed him arms and removed his underwear. He slid the glass door open to let himself in the stall and Yuri accommodated him by taking a step back so Otabek could join him under the warm spray. Yuri thought he could never tire of seeing Otabek without his clothes on, the water streaming in rivulets over every muscle. Yuri reached towards his hair and carded through it, the dark brown locks becoming black and heavy. He pressed himself up against Otabek and kissed him hungrily, let his hands roam the man’s gorgeous form. He started to rut against him, but Otabek halted Yuri, gripping his hips in his broad hands and pushed the blond towards the wall. With ease, he turned Yuri around to let his chest collide against the cold tiles and he growled hotly in the blond’s ear.

 

“Spread your legs for me and stick your ass out. And don’t touch yourself.”

 

He was actually going to do it, Yuri thought with a thrill. When Yuri had fantasized about it, it had seemed so nasty and yet so arousing at the same time. If he were honest, Yuri desperately wanted to know what it would feel like, to have Otabek’s tongue work him open like that. Yuri pressed his palms and cheek against the wall with a whimper and did as he was told.

 

Otabek caressed his wet back.

 

“We can stop if you don’t like it, baby,” he said softly in reassurance and then lowered himself to his knees.

 

Yuri shivered as Otabek stroked his hips, circled the dimples carved into his lower back. Then he put his hands on Yuri’s ass, kneaded the plump flesh and placed kisses on the back of his thigh. Otabek’s mouth trailed up and up, to his ass cheek, tracing his tongue over wet skin with relish. Yuri’s breath hitched as he arrived at his ass crack and languidly licked strips from bottom to top. It was filthy, Yuri thought, so fucking filthy and yet he wanted nothing more than to push back against Otabek’s face. He felt Otabek’s heavy breath on him and then his fingers gripping his ass cheeks, spreading him open. He started lapping at his rim, warm and firm, and Yuri felt like dying. All of a sudden, the pressure was gone as Otabek sat back on his heels, hands still on Yuri’s ass.

 

“Is it good?” he heard Otabek ask.

 

Yuri lifted his head from the tiles. “So fucking good – more.”

 

Otabek put his mouth on him again, continued licking with vigour. Yuri began to suspect this whole idea was actually pretty selfish on Otabek’s part. From the way he was sucking the puckered flesh, Yuri could tell he was very much enjoying himself. He distinctly started applying more pressure, pushing his tongue along his rim, until –

 

Yuri moaned, so loudly it bounced off the red tiles of the stall, echoed over the rush of the water. Otabek had his tongue in his hole, pushed it further and back again, hummed low and lewdly. The hottest guy Yuri knew was eating out his ass like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. It was the kind of sinfulness Yuri wouldn’t mind getting punished for. He couldn’t help himself. He pressed away from the wall against Otabek’s tongue to make him go deeper, ass in the air. Otabek dug his nails into his hips, buried his face inside him. The sensation made Yuri cry out, whining like he was in heat. His cock twitched and leaked and Yuri wanted to touch himself so badly, but that would be against the order he had received and that thought strangely made it even better.

 

As Yuri’s panting became strangled, Otabek slowed down his pace. His hands left Yuri’s hips and started caressing his thighs, until suddenly he leaned back. With a whimpering mewl, Yuri cast Otabek a questioning look over his shoulder. The man ran a hand through his wet hair and looked up at Yuri with that goddamned devastating smile. Then he crouched back against the wall opposite the one Yuri was standing against. He let his head fall back softly against the tiles and raised an eyebrow as to beckon Yuri to come over. Yuri turned to face him, body still shaking. Otabek bit his lip and let his eyes fall on the blond’s straining cock. Yuri realised what Otabek wanted him to do.

 

“Come on, Yura, give it to me,” he spurred him on.

 

Yuri felt like a fool for wanting to scramble over immediately. He took a deep breath and moved closer to Otabek who sat on his knees for him, waiting, his large cock still hard.

Yuri gently tugged his hair, tilting his head up. Otabek opened his mouth, locking his dark eyes with Yuri’s. The blond groaned, took his cock in hand and guided it to Otabek’s mouth. He wanted to enter slowly, but Otabek’s hands shot out to his ass and pushed him forward, causing the blond to plunge in and fill him up to the hilt.

 

“Aahh, Beka!” he cried out.

 

No longer able to contain himself, he started thrusting roughly into Otabek’s mouth. The man moaned around his cock and kept sucking him steadily, seemingly loving every sharp snap of Yuri’s hips. Yuri tried to wrap his mind around the thought of this gorgeous man letting him fuck his face, spoiling him, treating him so, so good. Looking up at him like he owned him, all the while it was Otabek himself that was being used at this moment. It didn’t take long for the pleasure to build, for that familiar, delicious coil to unravel in the pit of his stomach. He cupped Otabek’s face in his hands and let the first wave of his orgasm hit him, gritting his teeth. As the second wave of pleasure hit, he pulled his cock out of Otabek’s panting mouth and let himself spurt pearlescent ropes over his boyfriend’s beautiful face.

 

Yuri was sure the sight of Otabek sitting there would feature in his fantasies until the end of his days. The man licked his lips clean and gave him a blissful smile. He carefully wiped his face, catching any residue with his tongue before letting the water wash it away as he got to his feet. Yuri stood back, still trembling, though relaxed with pleasure. Otabek had picked up the sponge and wanted to reach for the bottle of shower gel, but Yuri stopped him.

 

“Let me.”

 

Still smiling, Otabek gave him the sponge and Yuri poured on the almond scented cream, making it foam nicely. In a trance, he started washing Otabek, beginning at his shoulders and chest, before moving on to his abs. Streams of bubbles ran along every ripple down to his thighs and Otabek somehow looked shy peering up at Yuri from behind long black lashes. Yuri thought him irresistible. The blond closed in on him and palmed his hard cock in a soapy hand.

 

“What do you need, Beka?” Yuri asked him, his nose tracing Otabek’s jaw.

 

Otabek took the sponge from Yuri’s hand and the blond softly started jerking him. Yuri saw him close his eyes and give in to his touch, but he also noticed Otabek started caressing his own backside. He was readying himself too, Yuri realised.  

 

Suddenly Otabek dropped the sponge, stepped away and turned himself around. Leaning against the wall, he looked over his shoulder at Yuri in the most seductive pose the blond had ever seen. Otabek’s voice was ragged and laced with lust as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

 

 “Finger me, Yura.”

 

Nothing could have prepared Yuri for the surge of want that request unleashed in him.

 

“Oh, fuck,” the blond hissed and trapped Otabek’s body with his own, his chest pressing into the dark haired man’s back.

 

Otabek canted his hips, stuck his ass out with the tiniest needy quiver in his voice. Yuri felt dizzy, unprepared yet totally ready for what Otabek was offering him. He stroked his lower back with his slender fingers and without much patience traced them down to caress Otabek’s hole. Otabek had closed his eyes, stood waiting as he ran his tongue along his teeth. Yuri applied pressure to the tight rim, steadily kept pushing. Otabek winced in response, but arched his back beautifully, taking the first digit fully in one go. Yuri waited for him to become accustomed to the feeling, but to his surprise Otabek started grinding his ass into his hand. In disbelief Yuri found himself groaning against his cheek.

 

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?”

 

He should have known. He should have anticipated that Otabek could repay him every ounce of eagerness Yuri himself had thrown at him. The dark haired man gasped in response, his grind becoming deeper. Yuri started thrusting his finger in earnest now, moving his hand to meet each push of Otabek’s ass.

 

“Harder, Yura – ah,” Otabek whispered, “A bit more – Ah!”

 

This is what I will remember, Yuri thought. When I see him standing across the room and his mouth is set, and his brow is furrowed, when he is serious or in control on the ice, this is what I will recall him doing. Yuri wanted to scorch him. He added a second finger and picked up his pace.

 

“Did you like being on your knees, Beka? Did you like me slamming into you?” he started to go off, needing Otabek to voice the greed of his submission, “Do you like having my fingers inside you?”

 

Otabek smirked, wantonly. “It’s all I could think about, smelling your clothes,” he hissed and then shot Yuri’s own words back at him, “Like a pervert.”

 

_Fuck this guy._

 

Yuri forcibly snaked his hand along Otabek’s waist, tightly gripped his leaking cock and started fisting it in his palm. He reached his fingers deeper inside Otabek and felt him quiver.

 

“Oh yeah kitten, just like that,” Otabek cried out, with a strangled moan, “Just like that – Aaahh!”

 

It didn’t take long for Otabek to become a whimpering mess, to completely come apart as Yuri shoved in a third digit. He saw Otabek lose himself over Yuri’s nimble fingers, felt him tense, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He didn’t know Otabek could be so loud, so totally out of control while holding him in his power all the same. With a cry that seemed too harsh, even for the spacious shower, Otabek came, his seed pulsing, white jets splattering the red tiles.

 

He shuddered as Yuri removed his fingers and milked him in his fist, the cum streaming away with the warm water.

 

Yuri positively purred, ecstatic. “Was I a good kitten?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it folks, both dominant AND bottom Otabek for the price of one.
> 
> How did you like it?
> 
> Next time: it's the weekend so clubbing might seem like a good idea.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me longer than expected.

Mila’s clear blue eyes were the size of saucers when she spoke. “No way, he did NOT say that!”

 

She was trying to keep her voice down, since there were a few people moving about in the canteen, but despite her effort, some of them turned their head to the source of commotion. Otabek was recounting how he and Yuri had had dinner at Victor and Katsuki’s place and he had come to the part where the blond had basically shouted that he and Otabek were having sex over their pork cutlet bowls. When Mila asked about how their evening had been, he had found himself opening up to her about it. It made him happy to talk about Yuri to Mila, he noticed. He had the feeling she understood this joy he experienced, being aware of his pining for all these months from the side lines. They hadn’t even talked that much. Most of their communication had consisted of slightly frustrated texts about their crushes. But it had been enough to solidify some sort of bond. He liked Mila. She was cheerful, kind of boisterous and very observant. Otabek trusted her; she had kept her word about not telling Yuri he was in love with him and instead endured Otabek dancing around the fact during every interaction he had had with the blond. Now it had finally come to a point where it was out in the open and she seemed so happy it about it.

 

He didn’t particularly like divulging information about his private life. Not even his oldest, closest friends in Almaty knew everything about him; it just wasn’t in his nature to entrust everyone what was on his mind. Though Otabek was very straightforward when prompted, he kept himself carefully guarded as well and only at rare occasions he had found himself opening up to people completely. One of these people had been Yuri, and yet Otabek had also kept so much of his true feelings concealed from him, as a necessity to shield his heart. Now, every single feeling he experienced concerning Yuri was laid bare and it was frightening and exhilarating.

 

“Yes, he did,” Otabek replied in a hushed tone.

 

Mila clasped a hand over her mouth and started giggling uncontrollably.

 

“Unbelievable,” she managed to say in between peals of laughter.

 

Otabek glanced reproachfully at some of the onlookers for eavesdropping before continuing, even quieter than before.

 

“In his defence, I don’t think he meant to say that. It just kind of slipped out in the heat of the moment. You know how Yuri is.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Mila said while catching her breath. “Tell me, what was their reaction?”

 

“Katsuki didn’t say anything. He looked about as mortified as I did. Victor however, well, he reacted pretty much like you would expect him to. A lot of gasping.”

 

“Wasn’t the rest of evening really awkward?”

 

“No. Yuri called Victor out and then…” Otabek cast his eyes down at the table and shifted in his seat, “then he told them he loves me.”

 

Mila positively squealed with delight. “Bless your hearts.”

 

Just the memory of that moment made Otabek feel warm. He knew Yuri wasn’t typically the kind of guy to say things like that out in public. To hear him state it to his friends so matter-of-factly felt good. Too good perhaps. Otabek had only dreamt of stuff like that. To actually experience what it was like to be loved by Yuri Plisetsky was almost too much to bear. His heart soared every minute of the day since coming to St. Petersburg and at moments like that he was afraid it would burst. He had found himself so enamoured after that declaration of love that he couldn’t stop thinking about showing Yuri just how passionately he felt about him all throughout dinner. This had resulted in the best shower of his life. With burning ears he tried to push the thought of that away again, which was a hard thing to do. Remembering Yuri panting in the shower, pushing his fingers in and out of him, instantly caused a knot to form in his stomach. Not to mention the very determined blowjob Yuri had given him only hours earlier that morning, all hollowed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes, bobbing his head relentlessly as though trying to become proficient at a new skill.  

 

Otabek repressed a smile as he finally said: “After that Katsuki saved the evening by being very pleasant and Victor hadn’t anything to say on the matter anymore.”

 

“You know, I thought Victor was giving you a peculiar look when you came in this morning. This explains a lot.”

 

Otabek shrugged. He ran his palm along the fading hickey on his neck, a silent gesture to the evidence of Yuri’s affection. “When I came here, I didn’t expect things to move at such a fast pace.”

 

“I’ll say!” Mila laughed. “But I bet you’re glad it turned out this way.”

 

Otabek gave her a shy little smile despite himself. “Yeah.”

 

“Well, I’m happy for you. As for Victor, I think he sees Yuri as his little brother sometimes. So he feels protective of him. I see him as a little brother too, but I applaud him for finally managing to snag you.”

 

At that moment Yuri came walking into the canteen, some of his blond hair falling out of his ponytail and sticking to his sweaty face. He approached the table Otabek and Mila were sitting at with a smile, but noticed that they fell silent as soon as he arrived.

 

“You were talking about me,” he stated, much like an accusation.

 

Mila pursed her lips and squinted at him. “The world doesn’t evolve around you, Yuratchka.”

 

_Mine does_ , Otabek caught himself thinking.

 

He silently thanked a higher power for not saying that out loud. Still, something of the emotion must have been visible on his face because he was rewarded with the biggest grin from Yuri. The blond proceeded to catch his lower lip between his teeth and even went as far as to _wink_ at him. Otabek actually felt the blood rush to his face.

 

This little exchange got them an eye roll from Mila. 

 

“Oh my god. You two are so cute it’s disgusting. You’re almost as bad as Victor and Katsuki and they are the _kings_ of PDA.”

 

“Except we are like ten times cooler than those geezers,” Yuri commented as he sat down next to Otabek, whipping his hair from his face.

 

“Oh sure you are. At least you declare your love to the world with selfies and hickeys and getting your ears pierced at the same time.”

 

Otabek reached out to Yuri’s face to brush away a strand of hair but lingered at his earlobe and caught the little silver stud between his fingers. “Those were good selfies.”

 

Mila eyed the both of them with a saccharine expression. “Anyway boys, what are your plans for this evening? And don’t tell me you are locking yourselves in Yuri’s bedroom.”

 

Yuri raised an eyebrow while Otabek was still fondling his ear. “Why not?”

 

“Because it’s Saturday and I want to go dancing. I say we go clubbing together. Besides, Otabek is leaving the day after tomorrow. Don’t you want to let him enjoy St. Petersburg while he is still here?”

 

“I think he is enjoying himself plenty,” Yuri said, looking extremely self-satisfied. “Tell me, Beka, are you enjoying yourself?”

 

Otabek let go of Yuri’s earring and presented them with his usual dead-pan expression, which was harder to do with the implication behind Yuri’s words tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Plenty.”

 

“You know what, I take it back. You are _worse_ than Victor and Katsuki,” Mila said, visibly peeved. “Come on, it will be fun! Besides, it’s probably the last chance I’ll have to hang out with you guys, since Otabek is leaving on Monday.”

 

It was true. This was actually the last day Otabek would train at Yuri’s rink too. Yuri had arranged with Yakov to let him have both Sunday and Monday off. That way they could spend one final full day together before Otabek would return to Almaty on Monday afternoon. This meant that later that day, Otabek had to say his goodbyes to Yakov, Victor, Yuuri and Mila.

Apparently Mila would rather take one more opportunity to enjoy their company, outside of the rink.

 

“If you are worrying about me third wheeling you for the entire evening, don’t. Masha and Claudia are going too,” she said, referring to her other skater friends. “If I’ll get sick of you grinding against each other, I can join them.”

 

Yuri took a moment to think, as though not fully convinced. Instead, Mila turned her attention to Otabek. “What do you say, Otabek? Don’t you want to see how much better of a DJ you are than some schmo working the panel?”

 

Otabek knew Mila was trying to win him over with that comment and he had to admit it was working. He had hoped he would get the opportunity to go to a club in St. Petersburg with Yuri. If he were completely honest with himself, he had actually fantasized that a club outing might aid in a possible hook-up, but seeing how things had gone that wasn’t necessary anymore. Still, it would be great to go, check out the DJ, hopefully enjoy the music and dance with Yuri. The blond was an excellent dancer and they had shared a couple of dances at banquets, but nothing quite as intimate as what Otabek was secretly looking forward to.

Besides, when they would go out, Yuri was guaranteed to dress up in one of his little outfits. Otabek loved seeing him in those. He found that he had to push away more dirty thoughts before answering Mila.

 

“I think it could be fun.”

 

The reply was for Mila, but also directed at Yuri, who still was contemplating the proposition with his arms crossed. Then he blond glanced at him and all it took was that one look for the crease in Yuri’s brow to relax.

 

“Okay. Fine, we’ll go. But you two better make sure I don’t get carded to get into that club.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Mila winked, “Claudia knows the bouncer.”

 

She then clapped her hands and looked extremely pleased.  

 

“Alright boys,” she exclaimed,  “it’s happening tonight! Your big sister Mila is taking you out on the town.”

 

Otabek frowned. “Mila, you’re my age.”

 

She shrugged and grinned at him mischievously. “Yeah, but you’re short.”

 

 

\---

 

 

That afternoon, when both Yuri and Otabek were thoroughly beat after practice, Otabek said his goodbyes. Yuuri gave him the brightest smile while shaking his hand and said he looked forward to seeing him again soon. Victor’s smile was a bit more strained, but the awkward little pat on Otabek’s shoulder was well-meant. Yakov’s farewell surprised him. The man clasped his arm, looked him dead in the eye and told him he was pleased with what he had seen Otabek do at the rink.

 

“You have come a long way since summer camp, Altin. Back then I wasn’t sure you had it in you at all, but it seems I have been proven wrong. I’m impressed with your style. Keep it up.”

 

Just when Otabek thought he had received the highest praise, Yakov turned and glanced at both him and Yuri.

 

“I’ll be watching your social media,” he added darkly while tilting his hat, which sounded more like a threat. 

 

Mila cheerfully waved at them before leaving the rink herself, with a promise to see them again later that evening with take-out. They had decided she would come to Lilia’s apartment to have dinner together and get ready for the night. Back home, the both of them just collapsed on the couch, the intense training and the psychical exertion from the previous night proving to be too much for their bodies to handle. Otabek awoke from his nap by a thick fluffy tail tickling his face. Tigr sat perched on the armrest above his head, swishing said tail and looking as though she was passing judgement on the pile of tangled limbs snoozing in the late afternoon. Otabek had come to agree with Yuri that the cat appeared to be keeping an eye on them in Lilia’s absence, looking at them with that type of disdain the imagined the fierce Russian ballerina to have. Still, whenever Yuri spoke of Lilia, Otabek noticed a kindness and affection behind his aggravated tones, something akin to what one would feel towards a parent. He had no doubt in his mind Lilia harboured motherly feelings towards Yuri. Otabek would observe them before competitions, Lilia straightening Yuri’s braid, her arched eyebrows set sternly, but calling him beautiful just the same. He privately thought that Yuri must be like the son she never had.

 

Otabek found that Yuri had extreme difficulty talking about his actual parents. The few times Yuri had opened up about them, late at night and completely incidental, there was a sadness in his voice that broke Otabek’s heart. He still didn’t know the full story apart from the fact that Yuri’s father had abandoned him when he was very young. Yuri’s mother, who was unable to take full care of him, had put him under the supervision of his grandfather. Soon after, young Yuri had taken up skating, proving himself to be so talented he even became a provider for his family. As a result Yuri grew up rather quick in some aspects. At the time, Otabek had no idea that that was one of sources of the determination and drive he had seen in those bright eyes all those years ago. Yuri had soldiered on, because in a way he had to. His coaches became his parents and his rink mates his family and it was more than admirable for a person so young, with such a responsibility resting on his shoulders, to have achieved what Yuri had achieved. He was fierce like a tiger, because he felt he had to be, so angry at the world at fifteen. Otabek often thought Yuri’s anger was actually bitterness concealed, a certain pessimism that had coloured Yuri’s outlook on the world. Sure, teens were angry. But for Yuri it had been his defence mechanism, his way to cope with the world around him made up of people leaving him, of people not looking at him unless he worked hard enough to be acknowledged.

 

Looking at his sleeping form, Yuri’s head pressed into his chest, Otabek found he would do anything for him. To alleviate him whenever he would feel burdened, to comfort him. To hold him and just make him smile those sunshine smiles, which became increasingly common with Otabek around. Yuri didn’t need his protection, not really. Yet Otabek wished he could push any possible harm away from this wonderful boy, just to watch him grow and breathe and be at ease.

 

Yuri stirred, eyes still closed. “Would you stop staring at me, Beka?”

 

“Your cat woke me. I had to do something in the meantime, so I just enjoyed the view.”

 

Yuri pressed his face into Otabek’s hoodie. “Such a smooth talker.”  

 

Otabek chuckled as he softly petted Yuri’s head.

 

“What time is it?” the blond asked, his voice muffled.

 

Otabek reached out towards the coffee table to grab his phone and check. “Almost five thirty.”

 

Yuri reluctantly hoisted himself off of his boyfriend. “I better go hit the shower before Baba gets here.”

 

“Alone,” he added when he saw Otabek cocked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t get any funny ideas now. You’ll get carried away and we’re about to have company.”

 

“ _I_ will get carried away?” Otabek repeated in mock indignation.

 

Yuri grinned, stuck out his tongue and stalked off towards the hallway.

 

When Otabek turned his attention to his phone again, he saw he had received a text from his coach. He congratulated him on receiving compliments from Yakov, as the two had been in contact about Otabek’s training. Otabek had received messages from his coach earlier this week about the posts that had been placed by Yuri, which he had dealt with in private. At first he had been reprimanded for not informing his coach about his relationship. Much like Yakov, Otabek’s coach had gotten an influx of enquiries since those first pictures of him on Yuri’s Instagram. Then Otabek’s coach had softened when it became evident how positive the response had been from both Yuri’s and Otabek’s fan base once their relationship was confirmed. Much like when Yuri had spontaneously decided to pierce his lip, Yuri’s Angels, and now the Otababes as well, had come through for them. In hindsight, Otabek should probably have thought things through more and been prudent. But who really has time for that, he thought to himself as Tigr allowed herself to be stroked by him, when you’re in love?

 

 

\---

 

 

About an hour later, after Otabek had also showered, Mila showed up carrying a small duffle bag in one hand and a large plastic bag full of Indian take-out in the other. Otabek could tell Yuri was hangry by the way he ushered her into the kitchen and greedily took out the containers of food. You really had to admire the blond’s appetite, scarfing down chicken curry and saffron rice with a fervour like he hadn’t eaten in days. You would also think the amount of food Mila had brought along would be too much for three people, but Yuri managed to finish what was left in the containers when Otabek and Mila were bursting at the seams.

 

“It’s unbelievable, Yuri,” Mila remarked, “I don’t get where you leave all that.”

 

“I’m still growing,” Yuri answered, tucking into his third piece of naan bread.

 

Completely stuffed after dinner, they proceeded into the living room. The duffle bag Mila had brought along contained the outfit she planned on wearing clubbing, make-up and even a curling iron. She pulled out the appliance and batted her eyelashes at Yuri.

 

“Remember how nice you looked with curls, Yuratchka?”

 

This peaked Otabek’s interest. A couple months ago, he had received a selfie from Yuri, sticking out his tongue, his face framed by loose golden curls.

 

_Baba curled my hair,_ it read.

 

Otabek had dreamily stared at the picture for hours on end, Bjork’s _Venus as a Boy_ playing quietly in the background.  

 

Yuri groaned but Mila shushed him. “Come on, please, you’ll look beautiful! What do you think, Otabek?”

 

With the way Yuri’s eyes bore into him, Otabek felt put on the spot, yet he stammered: “It looked very nice on the picture.”

 

Yuri’s expression took on a catlike quality as his eyes narrowed and he smirked.

 

“Did it now?”

 

Mila seemed elated. “See, your boyfriend thinks it looks pretty. You’ll let me do it now, won’t you?”

 

“Fine,” Yuri agreed, “But no make-up.”

 

Mila opened her mouth again in protest, but Yuri cut her off. “Just the hair, baba, don’t push your luck. I’m not a doll!”

Mila grumbled something about Yuri being a spoilsport, but he had already turned his attention to putting on some kind of up-tempo song on his phone. He promptly dropped to his knees next to the coffee table and crouched his way towards a cabinet. Otabek instantly knew what he was up to, but Mila was puzzled.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Well, we’re going out, aren’t we? We will need some refreshments.”

 

He opened the cabinet, with a wicked, tell-tale expression and started pulling out all the bottles Yuri and Otabek had familiarized themselves with over the past week.

 

Mila started laughing. “What the hell is this?”

 

“Lilia’s liquor stash.”

 

“Seriously? Don’t tell me you have been sampling!”

 

Otabek leaned in and revealed in a low voice: “It’s how he seduced me.”

 

Mila doubled up in a fit of laughter. “Yuri Plisetsky, you hussy! What would Lilia say of her star pupil!”

 

“She doesn’t need to know and you’re sure as hell not going to tell her if you want a drink.”

 

Yuri scrambled up again to fetch glasses.

 

“I’ll be as silent as the grave if you’ll pour me a rum and coke,” Mila said after regaining her composure.

 

This seemingly appeased Yuri as he returned and put three glasses and bottle of coke on the table. He looked at Otabek.

 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

 

Yuri nodded approvingly and started pouring far too generous amounts of rum into three glasses. He topped them off with coke and handed them out.

 

“To Lilia,” Yuri toasted, like he had done before with Otabek.

 

Only this time Mila added: “Whose absence this week has enabled the dream of many Yuri’s Angels and Otababes alike to come true.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Mila emerged from the bathroom, wearing a red velvet mini dress with straps that were barely there, fishnet tights and tall platform boots. The look was completed by a velvet choker and she was clutching a very fuzzy white coat.

 

She staggered slightly as she walked over to the full length mirror in Yuri’s bedroom and gingerly started applying lip gloss.

 

“You look like a Spice Girl,” Yuri commented.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mila said as she turned around and gestured at Yuri and Otabek with the tube of lip gloss in her hand. “Are you going to disentangle any time soon?”

 

Currently, Yuri lay half-sprawled over Otabek on the bed. Both had already changed into their outfits for clubbing. In Otabek’s opinion, Yuri looked amazing. He was wearing a burgundy coloured top, embossed with a tiger’s head, and ripped, black skinny jeans. What made the look extra special was his hair, expertly styled into beautiful loose waves by Mila while knocking back rum and coke. Like Mila, he was sporting a choker necklace too, only his was made from a thin strip of leather. It made Otabek want to hook a finger behind it, pull Yuri towards him and kiss him senseless. In fact, he had been well on his way doing just that when Mila came back from changing. Otabek himself kept this attire rather simple for the occasion with a black T-shirt and jeans, but he still looked good, or so he had been told by Yuri, whispering it in his ear.

 

“I still want to finish my drink,” Yuri murmured, obscured by the crook of Otabek’s neck. Truthfully, they’d had plenty already. Otabek was feeling rather light-headed to say the least, which was brought on equally by kissing Yuri and those rum and cokes. After-dinner drinks had set them back an entire bottle of rum, with three drinks per person and counting. If he wanted to stay true to his word, Yuri had to find a way to reimburse said bottle by Monday, but at the moment Monday seemed very far away to Otabek. Right now, all that mattered was that Yuri was gorgeous and top of him and that soon they would be dancing.

 

“Our drinks are still in the living room,” Mila said, giving herself a final once over in the mirror. “I say we finish those and head out.”

 

And so the three of them hobbled back into the living room, all more wobbly and giddy than usual. Tigr was doing her best Lilia impression next to the unplugged curling iron, but Mila proclaimed her to be so cute she threatened Yuri to take her along in her duffle bag. Yuri loudly protested, picked up Tigr and proceeded to dance with her. Then Mila pulled them all in for a selfie to send to Sara, after promising Yuri she would keep the liquor bottles out of the shot, just in case. She poked Otabek in the ribs that he needed to smile more, twice. Mila then dramatically lay on the couch, drink in hand, to lament the fact her girlfriend was so far away and that every time she visited they were closely watched by Michele, who was jealous and a virgin, FYI. Apparently this lead into a round of gossip on who was interested in who and bets were placed on when Guang Hong and Leo would finally hook up. Yuri recounted the story of the time he spent in Hasetsu the previous summer and how gross Victor and Yuuri had been and that stoic Seung Gil had made out with that married Japanese dude from the ice rink. This prompted Otabek to reveal how JJ had first asked out Isabella rather clumsily, which greatly entertained Yuri. Under these circumstances they finally finished their drinks, Mila collected her things and they made their way downstairs to catch a taxi.

 

On the stairs, Yuri turned to Otabek and told him huskily that he wondered how long it would take him to drag Yuri back to the apartment again. Otabek felt hazy and Yuri smelt so good that wondered the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter update than the previous chapters, but hopefully it will do for now.
> 
> Next time, we're hitting the club.


	14. Chapter 14

When Otabek got into the taxi with Yuri and Mila, and the driver drove away rather hastily, he became aware of a kind of crackling energy permeating the air. The kind he had felt before medalling or nights out with his friends in Almaty. The kind in which everything felt electrically charged with exhilaration and every action would spark a jubilant memory. 

 

Or maybe it was just the rum and cokes.

 

Mila phoned her friend at the club, which neither knew the name of, only its location. She loudly repeated the name of the street where this club was supposedly at to the driver, who seemed to get more agitated by the minute with these tipsy kids in his car; the redhead jabbering on the phone, asking “But what does the building _look like, Claudia_?”, the lithe blond clinging to the shape of Otabek on the backseat, trying to blow in his ear. The driver and Otabek locked eyes in the rear-view mirror, the man frowning at him as to scold him.

 

“Stop it,” Otabek hissed at Yuri, suppressing a chuckle, “ _Behave._ ”

 

With a pout, Yuri sat back, but let his knees knock against Otabek’s for the rest of the ride. They sped through the city, the lights illuminating Yuri staring at him from by the car window, biting his thumb, ready for another reprobation. It seemed that Yuri was going to make a sport of teasing Otabek through these looks and touches, gauging how long it would take him to drag Yuri off somewhere to have his way with him. But even through his haze, Otabek was determined not to let Yuri get to him. Not yet. The tease was too much fun.

 

Otabek became dimly aware that the car brought them to the northern part of Saint Petersburg, to a neighbourhood near the docks, away from the major bustle of the city. The area composed of both modern and dilapidated warehouses. As the taxi driver turned another corner, Otabek could spot a warehouse decorated with lights in the distance, where a small crowd had gathered outside. When the car approached, the beat of music became audible. Apparently this was the no name club Mila’s friends were waiting at for them.

 

Yuri raised his eyebrows. “What the hell? Is this it?”

 

Mila craned her neck while scanning the crowd. “I think so… Yeah, I see Claudia!”

 

The cranky driver was paid and the three of them got out of the car. Mila grabbed hold of Yuri by the sleeve of his leather jacket, who in his turn took Otabek’s hand and they made their way through the people, most of them smoking and talking over their drinks. Mila was leading them to was a girl close to the entrance of the building, who Otabek assumed to be Claudia. She looked like a busty version of Yuri in a baby pink sequined dress, bored of waiting with a supermodel haughtiness, but once she saw Mila she cheerfully waved. Next to her stood a brunette, about half the size of Claudia, in a red suede fringed jacket thoughtfully sipping a bottled beer. Both of them looked vaguely familiar and then it dawned on Otabek that he had probably seen them around at competitions, since Mila had said these girls were both figure skaters as well.

 

“You found it!” Claudia exclaimed, slightly shivering in her little dress, making the most of the hug Mila gave her by pawing the fluffy fake fur of Mila’s coat.

 

Mila greeted Masha in a similar fashion. “How can you not know the name of the club, though? Isn’t your friend a bouncer here?”

 

Claudia shrugged. “He doesn’t know either. Every couple of weeks he gets a call from the guys who run this, asking him ‘hey you wanna work at the club?’ and then he just shows up at whatever location they tell him to go and gets to work.”

 

“They’re at a different spot every time,” Masha added.

 

Apparently Otabek had fallen headlong into a genuine Saint Petersburg hipster experience, which became evident as soon as he considered to actually observe the people gathered there. The crowd was a mishmash of painfully cool twenty-somethings; Girls with odd coloured matte lips wearing all black or decked out head to toe in vintage clothing. Guys with well-kept beards and tattoo covered arms. Effervescent people of undetermined gender with flawless eyebrows and platform boots.

 

Yuri introduced him to Mila’s friends, but the girls confessed to already know who Otabek was, both from having watched his performances and just generally being aware of the juicy news he had become Yuri’s boyfriend recently. He liked the face Yuri made when they said that; uncharacteristically bashful. 

 

Was it really only a year and a half ago that Mila had described how Yuri lay flat on his ass, kicked out of a club in Barcelona, trying to sneak in to find Otabek for that crazy idea about his exhibition skate? Even back then, just a little over a day of getting to know each other, Yuri had been clingy, latching on to his newfound friend with fervour. He remembered Yuri brazenly looking at him from across the club, and then practically crawling over the DJ booth to get to him, once he started to play the song which would make Yuri find his own voice.

 

He remembered Yuri shivering in Otabek’s own hoodie on a beach and quietly telling him of his hopes and dreams, with Otabek hiding a smile behind his hands, because he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Otabek still couldn’t believe his luck for that matter, because Yuri was now ushering Otabek to the front door of the warehouse, following the girls, one hand slipped into Otabek’s back pocket, purring sounds of approval in his ear.

 

Claudia’s bouncer friend was short but stocky, with squarely cut shoulders and piercing blue eyes. In fact, they pierced right through Yuri when Claudia announced with a bright smile that these were her friends that wanted to join her at the club tonight. You could tell he was trying to determine if Yuri was actually over eighteen, but at the same time he was so dazzled by Claudia that with a curt jerk of his head he granted them permission to go inside. If Otabek had been more sober, he would have been more concerned about the morality behind this little transaction, but right now he was more excited to finally be at a club together with Yuri. 

 

Mila insisted on paying the entrance fee for them and since the bouncer had already let them enter the front hall, the guy at the ticket counter apparently had no consideration whatsoever to ask for their IDs. He just took a quick, appreciative glance at their outfits, slapped a neon pink bracelet on each of them and they were good to go.

 

It was by far one of the strangest clubs Otabek had ever been in, basically a disco assembled from scratch.

 

Upon entry, there was a makeshift cloakroom to the right, behind what appeared to have been a receptionist’s counter, but you couldn’t really tell if it had been there already or if it had been put there for the party. The spacious main hall was transformed into a dancefloor. The fluorescent tubes that hung on concrete beams throughout the building weren’t turned on. Instead, lights had been installed that bathed the place in a red glow, with flickering disco lights tumbling over the people dancing in the centre of the hall.

 

To the left, there was a big staircase that led to the first floor, which was more like a balcony running along the sides of the space, where you could watch over the main hall like an atrium. In the back of the main hall you had the bar on one side, composed of the same type of receptionist’s desk but with a tap installed and a wall of crates displaying liquor bottles behind it. On the other side was the DJ booth, built upon a raised platform. 

 

People were tearing it up on the dance floor and despite some one-act tragedy momentarily going on in front of the bathroom (the kind which always seems to happen in every club across the globe), the atmosphere was exuberant.

 

Otabek was taking this all in, Yuri at his side, positively gloating for ending up in such a cool place as this. In a daze they followed the girls from the cloakroom to the bar and accepted the drinks handed over to them by Masha. They toasted to the bouncer.

 

Now Otabek had a chance to actually observe the DJ, a girl in her twenties with a platinum pixie cut and a baggy metallic T-shirt. The way she played her set was… interesting. Otabek noticed they weren’t necessarily mixed together well, but the quirky selection of songs worked, following up mixes of current club hits with eighties pop. Occasionally she threw in nineties hip-hop and then the crowd really went wild.

 

“Can you believe this place?” Yuri asked him in bewilderment while The Jets’ ‘Crush on You’ started playing through a David Guetta mix.

 

When Otabek had imagined himself to go clubbing with Yuri, he had never quite thought of this kind of set up. Yuri took him by the hand to the dancefloor, giddy after half a glass of whatever it was they were having, and started to dance to this impossibly bubbly melody. Otabek joined in, the song making him feel like some middle-schooler in 1985. Yuri twirled and grinned and kept knocking back his drink, and Otabek couldn’t comprehend how attractive he was. They were joined by the girls, forming a small group on the middle of the dancefloor. But Otabek hardly noticed the people around him anymore. All he saw was Yuri.

 

\---

 

After another one of those drinks, which he learned was called a Long Island Iced Tea even though it tasted nothing like iced tea but more like rum and coke on steroids, Otabek could safely say he was drunk. He didn’t get drunk very often, he found himself explaining to Mila. She laughed out loud, patted him on the back and spun him around. Claudia and Masha had been excellent company. In addition to resembling Yuri in appearance, Claudia was just as loud and boisterous as he was and sent any person that gave them unwanted attention packing. Otabek was also fairly certain that in a drinking competition Masha could drink them all under the table, since she was the only one of them that wasn’t teetering. Suddenly Yuri declared he had to pee and dragged Otabek off to the bathrooms. People were casting them suspicious looks, much to Yuri’s chagrin that now he didn’t get to push Otabek into a stall for a make out session. 

 

As Otabek stood waiting for Yuri to re-emerge from the bathroom, some girl came up to him and started talking, but he couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. He was about to politely ask her to repeat herself, but then Yuri returned, looking like he was going to skin the poor girl alive.

 

“I can’t leave you alone for 5 fucking seconds or someone is throwing themselves at you already,” he shouted while leading him away, leaving girl behind looking stunned.  

 

Otabek laughed. “What are you talking about?”

 

Yuri sharply turned around, bristling. “Are you kidding me? You can’t be that oblivious. Everybody is always trying to flirt with you! Like that waitress from the pizza parlour.”

 

“Who?”

 

Through the fog in his brain he tried to recall whoever Yuri was talking about, but his memory momentarily came up blank. People trying to flirt with him? He thought how he could say the same thing about Yuri. Yuri had to realise that lately people had been staring at him intently, hadn’t he? That the people Yuri suspected were looking at Otabek, were actually interested at the blond beauty by his side. Surely Yuri knew he was beautiful. Surely Yuri knew by now what kind of effect he could have and subsequently how he could bring Otabek to his knees with one look. As much as Otabek liked being in control, it was Yuri who had him in his power all along.

 

Yuri was about to sputter something but Otabek caught him by the waist.

 

“I’m too busy looking at you, Yura.”

 

This had thrown Yuri off-guard. Otabek expected him to call him a sap, but Yuri just laughed and flung his arms out over Otabek’s shoulders.

 

“Good,” he smirked and then leaned in. “Never take your eyes off me.”

 

He was close enough to kiss, right then and there, but before Otabek got the chance Yuri was already backing away to the dancefloor, eyebrow arched, fully aware of what Otabek had wanted to do. He was still teasing, Otabek realised.

 

At this moment, almost on cue, the platinum haired sylph of a DJ sneaked in a nineties rap song, the sleaziest one of the evening thus far. A woman’s moans reverberated through the hall, the bass thrummed deeply and Otabek had the uncontrollable urge to giggle as he recognized the song, even more so when he saw the wide grin on Yuri’s face.

 

She had put on ‘Doin’ It’ by LL Cool J.

 

Naturally Yuri saw this as the perfect opportunity to slowly move in on Otabek, circling his hips, swaying to the music. He ran a hand through his curls, which by that point were messy and made Yuri look even more like trouble. Otabek didn’t know what kind of witchcraft Yuri possessed, making moving like that look so damn good.

 

Yuri spun himself around, hand still threading his hair, and glanced at Otabek from over his shoulder, biting his lip. The scenario seemed to greatly amuse Yuri, spurred on by the explicit lyrics, so raunchy they were almost laughable. He kept smirking at Otabek who was staring at him, entranced by the way Yuri was dancing. As from its own accord, Otabek’s body moved towards Yuri’s. And then Otabek had his private little fantasy played out.

 

Russian Punk Yuri Plisetsky grinding with him to some dirty song, ass against Otabek’s groin.

 

Otabek slid his hands over Yuri’s hips to follow his movement, press him even closer. As soon as he did, Yuri started pushing back against him, increasing the friction.

 

With some delay, Otabek realised this was probably a _very bad idea_ , since Yuri's movements against him were starting to feel a little too good for public decency. Yuri, however, didn’t care much about that and seemed to have his heart set on turning him on. He leaned back into Otabek's chest, tilted his head to let Otabek nuzzle his neck, not really considering that Otabek was shorter than he was. Still, Otabek played into it, pulling him back by his shoulder, kissing the nape of Yuri's neck where he kept his hair pushed aside.

 

Yuri giggled, pressed himself flush against him, still swaying to the music, sending a jolt of pleasure to the pit of Otabek's stomach.

 

_Fuck._

 

With a last remaining shred of sanity, Otabek backed away from him, making Yuri turn around in confusion. He gave Yuri a smug smile, conveying that Otabek was fully aware that Yuri was trying to rile him up so much Otabek wouldn't be able to control himself, but that he still had some strength left to resist Yuri's siren song.

 

Yuri got the silent message and laughed.

 

Suddenly, they heard Mila cry out.

 

“Holy shit, Yuratchka, where did you learn that?!”

 

It was then that Otabek noticed that Mila and her friends had come to their spot on the dancefloor and had been observing them, as had a few other people in their vicinity.  

 

“Shut up, hag,” Yuri bit back, but there was no real sting to his words since he was still grinning. In fact, he seemed completely unbothered by onlookers having witnessed him grinding hard on his boyfriend.

 

Just when Otabek was proud at himself for not giving Yuri the satisfaction of getting him to yield, he felt done playing games. At that moment, he no longer wanted to be in a sea of people, the loud beat droning on. He wanted to have Yuri to himself again. Not to continue teasing or getting each other off, but just to enjoy his company somewhere quiet.

 

Otabek touched Yuri's shoulder and leaned in to be heard over the music.

 

“I need some air. Come with me.”

 

Yuri immediately grabbed his hand, ready to be led anywhere Otabek wanted to go. They left the girls behind, who whistled and winked at them, Otabek navigating Yuri through the crowd. Instead of going past the cloakroom and out the door, Otabek made a turn to go up the stairs.

 

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said to a puzzled Yuri. 

 

For as much as it was true Yuri came up with crazy schemes, Otabek had either been a far too willing accomplice or actually the instigator. When they were having their second drinks earlier, Otabek, Yuri and the girls had made a lap around the club and visited the first floor, which functioned as a lounge area, littered with second-hand sofas. Back then, Otabek had spotted a door tucked away in the far corner. It was an emergency exit leading out to the fire escape, a metal staircase running up the side of the building.

 

Going slowly, as to not be noticed by anyone, Otabek took Yuri with him to the emergency exit. Yuri became aware of what Otabek was planning to do. He didn’t need any persuasion at all to let himself be lead away; away from the people dancing or observing the dancefloor below across the railing.

 

As inconspicuous and stealthy as his haze would let him, Otabek fumbled at the door of the exit and finding it open, pushed Yuri through, onto the metal construction outside. He shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible, waiting for a few seconds to make sure nobody had seen them slip out.

 

“Fuck Beka, there could have been an alarm or something! Someone might catch us.”

 

Otabek put his finger to his lips, indicating Yuri to keep his voice down.

 

"Go up," he instructed Yuri in a whisper.

 

Yuri took the challenge. Reeling from the thrill, they both climbed the stairs making as little noise as they possibly could, which was tricky since the metal clanged and reverberated under their boots.

 

At the top of the stairs, they had to climb over a low railing, which wasn't without danger. In fact, the whole operation was stupid; they could easily get caught. But neither of them were thinking about acting responsibly. The only thing that mattered to Otabek right now, was reaching the roof, stealing Yuri away. After they had finally set foot on the gritted tiles, they could take in their surroundings.

 

It was so quiet up there, not even the voices of the people loitering in front of the building or the din of the music was heard. There was a cool breeze which made them shiver, but it was a welcome change from the stuffy air inside the club. They could look out over the warehouses, though some higher buildings were blocking the view on one side. But the other side was left unobscured and you could manage to see the lights of the port in the distance.

 

Otabek now noticed the moon, standing out in the sky like a pearl on black velvet, the stars glittering beside it. On first glance it appeared to be full but Otabek could already tell there was darkness eating away its right side.

 

Waning moon. A time for retreat and goodbyes, his mother had told him once.

 

There on the roof of a warehouse in Saint Petersburg, he became aware of a feeling that had been gradually seeping into him. Though it had been there for a while, he had only briefly alluded to it. How cruel that he should become so aware of it right now, adrenaline and euphoria still coursing through his system.

 

You live thousands of miles apart.

 

You have obligations.

 

_You can’t feel like this all the time._

 

The reality was as cold as he had expected it to be, but that didn’t make the realisation of having to wake from this week long dream any easier. He pushed the thoughts away; he didn’t want to think about what he already knew. Not with Yuri right next to him, breathless at the sight of the moon and stars. So he pulled Yuri towards him and kissed him hard. Yuri eagerly reciprocated, his mouth hot, tasting like rum. The buzz was back, drowning out the onset of sadness.

 

Then Yuri pulled away with a seemingly urgent question.

 

"Have you done shit like this before? Climbing on buildings, I mean."

 

"Maybe," Otabek smirked.  

 

“So fucking cool,” Yuri murmured with a smile before kissing him again.

 

Otabek remembered the first time Yuri had said he was cool. He had stored that memory away like a badge of honour. Otabek wasn’t used to getting what he wanted without any effort. He had to work for it, persevere, put in long, hard hours of diligence. To be acknowledged by a person he himself had looked up to, had been a strange, triumphant feeling. And all of that for something as elusive as being deemed cool.

 

Yuri started touching his waist, the curve of his hips. Melting into each other, their kisses became frenzied. Yuri’s fingers found their way under Otabek’s shirt, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s ass with both hands. However, they were both caught off balance by their desire, unstable after too much liquor.

 

Suddenly it became too much, the alcohol, the starry sky, Yuri tasting so good, having to go back home. Simultaneously, they broke away from each other. 

 

“I’m dizzy,” Yuri gasped.

 

Otabek shuddered. “Me too.”

 

There was nowhere to properly sit, so they just sank down on the rooftop, not caring about the grime and moss. They came to lie flat on their backs next to each other, not touching. Otabek saw the moon spinning out of focus, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath. For a while he just listened to their breathing becoming slow and even. He opened his eyes. The moon was a still point again. He was glad the dizziness had subsided and prayed he wouldn’t have to throw up.

 

Otabek shifted his head to look at Yuri on his right. He found him looking straight at the sky, purposefully keeping his gaze upwards, his lip quivering slightly. Otabek realized that Yuri didn’t want to meet his eyes, because otherwise the tears that had been pooling in them would spill over.

 

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked tentatively.

 

Silence.

 

Otabek could tell Yuri was struggling to find the right words for whatever it was he was feeling.

 

“I’m jealous,” he whispered eventually.

 

“I know.”

 

Silence again.

 

“You’re mine now.”

 

The way Yuri said it was odd. It sounded like a statement, but it wasn’t. And yet it was too resolute to be a question. It should have sounded possessive, but something in Yuri’s voice was too fragile. He had said something like it before, earlier that week. Why would he need to repeat it?

 

Otabek raised himself on one arm to look into Yuri’s face, seek out his eyes, which were shining with tears. When he met Yuri’s gaze, Yuri almost looked at him accusingly, as an intruder on this moment of unwanted vulnerability. He looked even more unguarded than he had in his dishevelled little robe, back when Otabek had told him he loved him. All Otabek wanted was to make Yuri understand. 

 

“I’ve always been yours.”   

 

And then he realised Yuri was overcome by the same emotion as Otabek. Sometimes you have these moments in your life, he knew, that feel perfect. When they occur, you want to capture them, meld with them, ascend. But at the same time you know that this happiness is fleeting, so even in rapture, you feel sorrow. At that moment they both felt the inevitable, which Otabek had been resisting all week.

 

It was knowing that from now on they were going to be miserable without each other.

 

Yuri stared at him, letting the weight of Otabek’s words sink in. He reached out to Otabek and pulled him closer. Otabek lay down again, letting his head rest on Yuri’s chest. Looking at the moon, he felt like crying too.

 

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Yuri said quietly.

 

“Me too.”

 

In a day, he would be back on a plane, leaving the best feeling he had ever experienced behind. It already hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor guys. 
> 
> #cryingattheclub
> 
> Note that the next chapter will be the wrap up of this story, dear readers! 
> 
>  
> 
> About the songs:
> 
> The Jets - Crush on You  
> Secretly, this song has been an inspiration for this fic since the beginning. If Yuri and Otabek's get-together story had been a John Hughes movie from the eighties, this would be the main track.  
> From the beat to the lyrics, it's actually pretty adorable, unlike the other song I mention.
> 
> LL Cool J - Doin' it  
> If you have never heard this song, I beg you, look it up and listen to the lyrics. Preferably with headphones.  
> It's a raunchy piece of work that leaves me in stitches every time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parting is such sweet sorrow as we say goodbye to our boys, but luckily we have someone to offer us some perspective.

Lilia Baranovskaya had dealt with plenty of drama in her life. In fact, to become the prima ballerina of the Bolshoi ballet, an overly generous dose of drama had been a prerequisite. I had involved brutal training, a rigorous diet, the relentless rivalry of fellow wisps of girls, just as hungry for that place centre stage. It had been fight after fight, beauty through pain, to obtain that dream of being the star. She had withstood screaming choreographers and nay-sayers, backstabbing fair-weather friends and failed romances. Lilia had lived out her life’s drama in the public eye and came out a legend, letting go of every preconceived notion of herself and of what life was supposed to look like.

 

Training a teenager, however, brought a special kind of drama on its own.

 

Even though she felt rested from her week of sun, sea and spa treatments, the news that had reached her during her stay made her feel like taking another vacation. Two days  into her restful holiday, Yakov had started calling and had kept on calling for every day afterwards.

 

“Yuri missed training and posted a picture of himself canoodling with Altin.”

 

“Some teenage magazine called about Yuri and I don’t know what to tell them.”

 

“Yuri walked in with Altin having a hickey on his neck but I told him to fix the mess online.”

 

“Why did you leave Yuri home alone? God knows what he’s doing!”

 

Lilia could take a guess at what Yuri was doing and felt a headache coming up. Then again, it would have just been a matter of time, she figured, before she and Yakov would fall victim to the love woes of Yuri’s adolescence.

 

That time, apparently, was right now.

 

Granted, though Yuri gave his all to become and remain a top athlete, he had never exactly been easy to deal with. Gradually, Lilia could see an improvement in his character. He became less short-tempered and was sometimes down-right domestic. But he still relished being unruly. It was part of his charm as well as part of the problem.

 

Growing up in the spotlight was tough, but even more so in today’s society where every misstep was well documented and under scrutiny. It was why Yakov had called her in a state of panic even though he was experienced in training young skaters. The set of problems he was facing with Yuri, had evolved from the time he had worked with Victor. Victor had come of age back when Myspace had become a thing and by the time social media dominated everyday life, he had matured. As an adult, it was Victor’s own responsibility to be discreet. The terms responsibility and discretion had yet to be taken up in Yuri Plisetsky’s vocabulary list. Even Mila Babicheva hadn’t caused Yakov so much stress as the former Russian Fairy.

 

It often occurred to Lilia after Yakov had enlisted her help to train Yuri. Despite their failed marriage, which hadn’t resulted in offspring, that through some bizarre conjuncture of choices, they had ended up raising a child together.

 

Now said child was unexpectedly waiting for her at the airport, after she had claimed her baggage and had gone through customs. He was leaning against a pillar, hands shoved in the pockets of a leather jacket, his hood drawn up. Additionally, he was wearing a scowl on his face that made him look positively miserable. 

 

“Yuri?” Lilia addressed him as she approached.

 

“How long have you been waiting here?”

 

“A while,” he replied as he drew himself up. “I was here anyway, I figured I’d might as well stay and wait for you.”

 

Lilia crossed her arms and blinked. She remembered him saying Otabek’s flight would leave at one o’clock on Monday. It was now almost three. He had been hanging around the airport for well over two hours.

 

“That’s very thoughtful.”

 

Yuri grunted and shrugged. Then he took over Lilia’s luggage as they proceeded to the exit. During the taxi ride back to the apartment, Yuri briefly asked about her flight and her trip, but otherwise didn’t really try to engage in conversation. Lilia herself had a couple of things on her mind as well, mainly some news she wanted to discuss about Yuri’s antics which had reached her yesterday. However, Yuri seemed to be in foul mood. He also hadn’t uttered a word about Otabek yet. Lilia assumed his crankiness had to do with Otabek leaving. She was tired and didn’t have the strength for a possible meltdown from Yuri in the presence of a taxi driver, so she decided she would postpone her enquiries and pre-planned lecture for at home.

 

\---

 

The house was spotless, immaculate. There was a large bouquet of fresh flowers on the coffee-table in the salon. Peach coloured roses, complete with a handwritten note, signed: “Dear Miss Baranovskaya, Thank you for letting me stay at your house. Kind regards, Otabek Altin.”

 

Lilia had to hand it to him, that was a slick move.

 

She arched an eyebrow and looked at Yuri who had settled himself on the couch.

 

“What a nice gesture.”

 

Another grunt from Yuri.

 

It was then that Tigr came trotting into the room to greet her.

 

“My beauty! My princess!” Lilia exclaimed.

 

She picked up the cat, gently stroked her silky fur and asked her: “Tell me, has Yuri been a good boy while I was away?”

 

Yuri tsk-ed, his eyes flickering towards a seemingly random point in the room. But then he visibly blushed as though remembering something all of a sudden and he cast his eyes down to the carpet. For some reason staring at the carpet made him blush even more.

 

Lilia felt it was time to get more response from Yuri instead of mere grunts and sighs. She let go of Tigr and locked her eyes on Yuri while moving over to the cabinet where she kept her supply of liqueurs and strong spirits. Before Yuri had caught up with what she was doing, she had already opened the little door and cast a look inside.

 

“Nice try, Yuri, but the rum was already opened before I left and I am seeing a sealed bottle right now. Also, they’re not organized correctly.”

 

Yuri was at a loss for words, thoroughly busted. Lilia shut the cabinet door again, ready for confrontation.

 

“You and I are going to have a talk now,” she declared. “Please go into the kitchen and make us some tea.”

 

Yuri knew better than to disobey. Though he was rolling his eyes, he practically flew towards the kitchen and busied himself with the kettle. Lilia followed him, her demeanour calm, almost serene. She knew this probably unsettled Yuri even more than an outburst, but she didn’t care. Let him worry a little bit, she thought.

 

She sat herself at the kitchen table and was soon presented a porcelain cup and saucer by Yuri. Earl grey with a slice of lemon, just the way she liked it. She let it steep for a while, waiting until Yuri plopped himself down onto a chair as well. Then she carefully took a sip of tea. Yuri was eyeing her suspiciously, gnawing on that cursed lip piercing. He seemed to be bracing himself for a reprimand about plundering the liquor cabinet. But Lilia didn’t want to talk about the liquor cabinet. She would rather discuss another topic that undoubtedly was connected to it.

 

“Let me ask you a question. How was clubbing this weekend?”

 

“How did you – ?”

 

Yuri was in shock. Secretly Lilia relished the feeling of delivering this blow right after the other. She continued sipping her tea.

 

“You have been spotted.”

 

“Spotted? Like I’m on Gossip Girl or something?”

 

“Spotted like you’re a well-known athlete with an adamant fan base but who is still acting like he’s clueless.”

 

Yuri drew a breath in agitation. He sat back and carded through his loose hair, frustrated. Now that his locks were pushed back, Lilia could see he had pierced his earlobes.

 

_Fantastic._

 

“So what?!” Yuri began. “Can’t I have a good time every once in a while?”

 

“Of course you can. But your idea of having a good time is apparently getting drunk and dancing dirty with your boyfriend in an underground club for which you are too young to attend.”

 

Yuri put his elbows on the table and hid his face behind his hands.

 

“Where did you hear this?” came his muffled voice.

 

“I read it online. It was a gossip thread on the most popular Yuri’s Angels forum. Since I oversee your media presence, I regularly check their posts. Somebody claimed that their friend, who is part of Otabek’s fan base, told them she saw him in a club in Saint Petersburg. She tried to talk to Otabek but then you came and angrily snatched him away. Then you commenced with the dirty dancing.”

 

“The flirty girl,” Yuri whispered.  

 

Lilia ignored whatever he was on about and continued.

 

“It was second-hand news, with no evidence, fortunately. They didn’t even know the name of the club. However, this attests that you still have a complete disregard for your public persona.”  

 

“So what are you suggesting? That I never leave the house apart from going to the rink or the ballet studio, because some Angel might be lurking in the bushes, ready to post stuff about me online and you’re worried that I might lose sponsors?” Yuri said nastily.

 

“It’s not the sponsors I am worried about!”

 

This was the first time she raised her voice during the conversation. Yuri became quiet.

 

“Listen, Yuri. People will talk. They will see things and interpret them however they please and write about it for the world to read. You will have to learn to be on your guard. And not just you, Otabek too. You chose to be with a boy who is a highly prolific skater as well. People will speculate things about him too. I want you to be prepared for that, because not everything that will be said is going to be true or kind.”

 

Yuri was staring at the table, pondering something.

 

“Victor and Katsudon are together and they are world champions.”

 

“They are adults. You are so young.”

 

She couldn’t help but let the tenderness she felt be heard in her voice.  

 

“Contrary to what you might believe I want you to enjoy life too. It’s why I let you have Otabek over in the first place. But then I find out that you have been acting recklessly, even doing something I explicitly told you not to do. I allowed you liberties and you actively abused that.”

 

That’s all she wanted to say in connection to the mishap with the liquor cabinet. She had made her point. It was an awkward position to have, to not be Yuri’s parent, or even legal guardian for that matter, but still have to guide and reprimand him on these kinds of things as a mentor. Frankly, she was a bit hurt. Yuri, still staring at the table, could sense that now too.

 

“I wasn’t thinking,” he began, softly.

 

“You were thinking, just not with your head.”

 

Yuri’s cheeks flared up in embarrassment.

 

“Well, he’s gone now, so – .”

 

Yuri didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he crossed his arms and looked as though he was about to cry.

 

He started stuttering.

 

“I’m sorry, okay? I cleaned the house and he is gone and I won’t see him for months and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

 

It was then that Lilia’s heart softened. As she observed Yuri fidgeting around in his seat, fighting his emotions, she saw what she hadn’t yet grasped over the phone. She had been distracted and annoyed, in crises solving mode, but it was clear as day now.  

 

The tiger is truly in love, she thought and she smiled, despite herself.  

 

“I accept your apology,” Lilia began. “What I want from you is for you to learn from this. Please learn that your actions have consequences. In life and in love. Please learn to know when to tread with caution.”

 

“I thought it was important to follow your heart, or some bullshit like that,” Yuri sulked.

 

“You seem to be perfectly capable of doing that. The problem is you need to learn when to hit the brakes,” Lilia said and finished her tea before adding: “And watch your language.”

 

Yuri grumbled.

 

Lilia took her empty cup and saucer and walked to the counter. She would remind Yuri about his transgressions when she would drill him in the ballet studio, but for now she decided to let the subject slide and focus on other matters at hand.

 

“How about some early dinner?” she asked Yuri, feeling peckish.

 

Before she could decide on doing groceries or, heaven forbid, eating take-out, Yuri answered.

 

“There are enchiladas in the fridge.”

 

“Enchiladas?” she repeated in surprise.

 

“Otabek made them yesterday. Leo or Leo’s mom or whatever taught him the recipe. He made extra so we didn’t have to make dinner today.”

 

A sparkly clean apartment, roses and dinner. The boys really had done their best to placate her. She opened she fridge and there was indeed a big casserole dish waiting to be reheated in the oven. Its contents looked delicious. 

 

“So the boy can cook. What else can he do?”

 

“Oh my god,” Yuri rolled his eyes, already exasperated by the teasing he would have to endure.

 

“I see.”

 

Lilia chuckled but decided to press on, now she could get a conversation going about Otabek.

 

“What’s his zodiac sign?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know. His birthday is the 31st of October.”

 

“Scorpio, impressive. You know, Scorpio and Pisces are an excellent match.”

 

For the first time since Lilia saw him today, Yuri smiled, as though extremely pleased.

\---

  

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

Yuri sat back against his headboard and pulled his laptop closer. It appeared Otabek was also reclining on his bed, looking at him amusedly.

 

It was finally Yuri’s favourite part of the day. At seven o’ clock on the dot in the evening, ten o’ clock in Almaty, he got to talk to Otabek on Skype and see his face. They had agreed on this specific set time after calling each other on odd hours during the day for two weeks, driving their coaches crazy. Now even Lilia had come to treat this hour as something sacred, making dinner in advance so Yuri would have time to chat afterwards. But she always knocked on his bedroom door after eight, telling him to wrap it up and let Otabek get some sleep, something which Otabek’s coach was undoubtedly thankful for. They would take up to half an hour to say goodbye, until Lilia threatened to disconnect the Wi-Fi. Whenever their schedule allowed it, they even planned their free time on the same day, so they could watch movies together, or just talk and be in each other’s presence for hours on end.

 

“I see you are wearing my shirt,” Otabek remarked.

 

He was referring to the band-tee Yuri had on. Black with white squiggly lines, ‘Unknown Pleasures’ in bold letters. The shirt Yuri had wanted to kiss Otabek in so badly that first morning in Saint Petersburg. When Otabek had been packing his bag, Yuri had begged for him to leave it behind. Otabek had been quite reluctant to give up that particular shirt, so Yuri had proposed a trade.

 

“I see you are _not_ wearing mine,” Yuri quipped. Otabek was wearing one of this plain tanks, which was actually a good thing, since Yuri could then enjoy looking at Otabek’s arms.

 

“Hang on, let me remedy that.”

 

Otabek pushed his laptop away, making sure he was still in full view of the camera. Then he pulled the tank over his head, after which he smirked at Yuri, who was treated to the sight of his chest and abs.

 

Yuri bit his lip.

 

“Unfair, Beka.”

 

Otabek winked at him and slid off the bed, out of view. He returned with a T-shirt, which he proceeded to slowly put on, stretching his bare torso.

 

The shirt in question was the same one Yuri had donned on that first morning together in Saint Petersburg. Cropped yet oversized with a disgruntled cat, emblazed with ‘Meow Bitch’.

 

It looked ridiculous on him.

 

“I hate it. Take it off again.”

 

“Are you ordering me to strip now?”

 

The tone of Otabek’s voice made Yuri’s heart race.

 

“Maybe,” he teased.  

 

It had only been a month, but Yuri was already counting down the days they would see each other at competitions in the autumn. Yuri had always missed Otabek after saying goodbye before, but this time it was pure torture. He knew he had been obnoxious that first week. He had eaten less and was absent-minded, clutching his phone at every waking moment. Yakov’s shouting didn’t even register anymore, but then Lilia would address Yuri and give him a knowing look and Yuri would focus on his training again. He felt he was obliged some unspoken promise of betterment to her.

 

It did not deter Yuri however, to text Otabek constantly. They phoned each other and sent pictures, most of them innocent snapshots of their day. But sometimes Yuri would open his phone in the morning to find Otabek had sent him something provocative.

 

Otabek shirtless, his face half out of frame, his hand inside the waistband of his pants.

 

_Thinking about you, kitten._

It sent his mind spinning out of control, recalling the time Otabek had used that pet name in person. The things they had done together! The feeling of Otabek all over him, inside him. Had that really happened? Had they really gone from zero to full speed in the course of one week? In hindsight Yuri had gotten a bit embarrassed about his impulsive nature.

 

But then he talked to Otabek, his voice kind and understanding, reminding him he was just as crazy about Yuri as Yuri was about Otabek. And he felt reassured. It was not some figment of his imagination. Those nights had been real. As backwards as it was, now that they were apart, they could take it slow. Though Yuri did often think about how he was supposed to endure this loss of intimacy. Sending back naughty pictures was a thrill, but not being able to touch and kiss him was excruciating. Yuri wanted to hold him, ravish him. Instead he walked around with his mind in the gutter about eighty percent of the time, making sneaky clips of trying to relieve himself for Otabek’s enjoyment. They had yet to schedule a full-time webcam session.

 

In his mind, Yuri had tasted paradise that week, and as a result he was very bitter in Otabek’s absence. It had not gone unnoticed. One evening, after this Skype call, he had been stupid enough to go on a rant about how cruel life was, that he was to be separated from the man he loved. Lilia, interrupted from watching one of her BBC costume dramas, was highly annoyed.

 

“For heaven’s sake, Yuri, stop being so dramatic.”

 

She had pointed to the television screen.

 

“What about these people? The greatest romances of all time have taken place in an era where they didn’t have the technology to talk to each other every day. They were pining in misery, but you have no right to complain. You should be thankful! At least you don’t have to resort to writing letters, with the possibility of not hearing from Otabek for months on end. If you wanted things to be easy and mediocre you should have started a romance with Ivan the hockey player from the rink.”  

 

That had put things into perspective somewhat.

 

He had imparted these words of wisdom to Otabek at the time. A week later something had come in the mail addressed to Yuri. He was handed a cream coloured envelope by Lilia, who had the most peculiar expression on her face. She had probably recognised the slanting handwriting.

 

He had read the love letter about fifty times. It now lay on his nightstand, ready to be discussed.

 

“Before you’re going to put on another striptease, let me ask you about this.”

 

Yuri held up the envelope.

 

Otabek gave him a blank stare.

 

“Ah, you got mail.”

 

Yuri waved the offending piece of paper in front of the screen.

 

“What the hell, Beka?”

 

“Well, you said Lilia mentioned writing letters was a grand romantic gesture of people longing for each other.”

 

Sometimes Yuri questioned if he had the ability to cope with such a guy as Otabek.

 

“There’s a poem in here,” he sputtered, “It’s about tigers.”

 

“I thought you would like that.”

 

Apart from the poem there was also a page long analysis, expounding on how Yuri’s fiery personality related to the poem and why Otabek loved him for it. Yuri grabbed a pillow and pressed it into his face in embarrassment. When he looked up, Otabek was just smiling, happy with the effect his letter had provided.

 

“I do like it,” Yuri confessed, “Thank you, it’s amazing. I’m just not good with words.”

 

He put the envelope back on his night stand and sighed.

 

“I wish I could touch you,” he said quietly.

 

“I would like that.”

 

“When we see each other at competitions, I’m not sure I want to leave the hotel room. To hell with figure skating.”

 

“Come on, you don’t want to give JJ the satisfaction of forfeiting a competition?”

 

“I never want to give JJ satisfaction for anything in my entire life!”

 

Yuri threw his pillow out of the way.

 

“By the way, check out what I’ve got done today.”

 

He pushed his hair back behind his ears, revealing additional piercings he had gotten at Kati’s that afternoon. Lilia had looked sour but hadn’t said a word.

 

Otabek scooted closer to his screen to admire them.

 

“Nice! They look really good on you, Yura.”

 

Getting compliments from Otabek still made his stomach do backflips.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Otabek appeared to be considering something. Then he got that mischievous little smirk.

 

“Speaking about piercings, I finally have an idea about what kind I should get. How about a tongue piercing?”

 

“Tch. Perv.”

 

But Yuri actually grinned, thinking about the prospect.

 

“I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Otabek wrote about was William Blake's "The Tyger". 
> 
> \---
> 
> Exactly one year ago I posted the first chapter of this story. It started as a fun idea I had had about an Otayuri get-together story which was supposed to be brief. The response I have gotten over the year was overwhelming, beyond anything I had imagined, and the story started to expand. I found myself part of a fandom all of a sudden and it has been an incredible experience. 
> 
> I would like to say thank you, to everyone who has been reading this story, everyone who has ever left a comment or has reached out to me and supported me throughout this year. I truly appreciate you and it has meant the world to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up in the comments or leave kudos if you like! Constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> You can find me on tumblr at http://severeminx.tumblr.com/


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